Still Love's Fool
by OyHumbug
Summary: This is the sequel to Love's Fool. It jumps ahead about fifteen years, and it shows you what has happened to Ryan, Marissa, Garrett, Cooper, Loren, and a few new characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Still Love's Fool**

Chapter One

Forty-four year old Marissa Atwood regarded her face closely as she looked into the mirror. It was the same mirror she had been using for the past sixteen years, but, despite the fact that friends and family told her she had barely aged in that time, she could very easily see the differences. Granted, because of good genes, a naturally hectic lifestyle – four kids between the ages of twenty-five and twelve would do that for a woman – and a husband still as sexually insatiable as he had been when they first met, her countenance and body appeared younger than her age, but it was the events taking place in her life that made her feel old.

The first event that made her feel as if she wasn't as young as she once was had occurred six years before. Q had suddenly passed away from old age, and, though a year later they had gone out as a family and adopted a new pet, she still missed the golden retriever that had, in her own way, brought her closer to her husband, and the dog's passing was a reminder to the mother of four that life can surprise you at any moment, that it is fragile and temperamental, that things really can happen on a whim.

Three years after that, her next shock had happened when Garrett had graduated from college. Legally, he had been an adult at that point for four years, but it was seeing her oldest child walk across the stage and receive his diploma that had cemented the fact that her little boy had grown into a responsible, handsome young man, a man who really did not need her any longer. Garrett's absence in her life as he forged his own path had only been compounded that summer when Cooper had moved out of the house and into an apartment he had shared with a bunch of friends.

And, now, it was three years later again, and Marissa could barely recognize her life. If she closed her eyes and blocked the rest of the world from her mind, she could practically still hear her four children playing in the backyard – Garrett and Cooper arguing over a sports call, Loren jumping on the trampoline and practicing on the balance beam her dad had installed for her behind the garage, and Aristan quietly occupying himself by drawing on the sidewalk or talking secretly with Bagel, their pet beagle. Instead though, reality brought with it a son who was newly engaged, a son who was wandering aimlessly through his life, still attempting at the age of twenty-four to break into the world of professional baseball, a daughter who was dating – _dating_ – and another son who would be a teenager in a month, and all she wanted to do was rewind the clock and go back to live the past sixteen years of her life all over again. Unfortunately, Bill Gates hadn't yet invented such a machine, but Marissa had faith that he someday would. Until then though, she would have to sit by, patiently wait, and enjoy the small joys her marriage and being a mother brought her.

"You look beautiful," Ryan compliment as he slid up behind her to stand and watch appreciatively. So lost in thought, she had missed him entering the room, but, with a delicate kiss to her bare shoulder blade and a hand that always seemed to find a way to caress her intimately whenever they were alone, her husband quickly and promisingly brought her back to the present. "What would I have to do to get you to wear that tonight to the party?"

Looking at her body which was only hidden from his hunger gaze by a thin, silk robe, Marissa answered, "promise me that my wearing this will drive Susan off for good."

"Garrett would be devastated, and I think we both know that you don't want that."

"In time, he'd get over it," the mother of four argued, "and, eventually, he'd meet someone else and fall in love again."

The still sandy blonde haired man looking back at her through the vanity mirror quirked his brow at her in question. "Is that what you would do if something happened to me, mourn for a little while and then start dating again?"

"That's not funny, Ryan. Don't even joke about something like that."

"I'm serious," he persisted. "If you wouldn't be able to get past losing me, what makes you think Garrett would be able to get past losing the woman he loves?"

"It's not that I don't trust his feelings for her," Marissa defended herself. "I'm just not too sure about Susan's for him. If she hurts my baby boy…"

"He's a grown man, honey; he can take care of himself. He's twenty-five, a successful architect, and he has a rational, level head on his shoulders. You should just be glad it's not Cooper getting married," the construction worker advised humorously. "Then we'd have some real trouble on our hands."

"I'm convinced he's going to be a serial bachelor," the mother of four stated confidently. "I mean, could you imagine anyone putting up with his odd jobs, pigsty habits, and happy-go-lucky behavior. Don't get me wrong, I love my son more than life itself, but he's truly one of a kind, and it'll take a strong willed woman to tame him."

"And I'm sure you're quite pleased with this development." She merely rolled her eyes in response. "However, if you keep the kids from marrying, chances are there will be no grandchildren."

"We're still in our mid-forties," the nurse swiftly turned around on her stool to glare at her husband. "There better not be any grandchildren for, at least, another decade. I'm not ready to be a grandma."

"That's sweet," he teased her. "Maybe you should have that printed on Garrett and Susan's wedding card, you know, customize it."

"You're not helping me get through this evening at all," Marissa snapped testily. "You're supposed to be distracting me and not bringing up even scarier ideas than the engagement party we're throwing tonight for our oldest child."

"If you want distracted, I can do that."

"Lower the libido, Loverboy. We don't have time for…that."

He tilted his head at a hopeful angle. "Does that mean you're open to being seduced tonight after everyone leaves?"

"If you can find me underneath the giant pile of Kleenexes I'm going to be buried under and are still foolish enough to find me attractive then, more power to you," she quipped. "But, really, I'm going to be a mess before we're even an hour into this disaster."

"Don't worry," he kissed her brow as he moved past her into their ensuite bathroom. "I'll make sure you're alright. It's what I do; I take care of you. Now, tell me about your day. Did you get some rest like you promised me you would?"

"I tried." Her response earned her a disgruntled glare from her husband. "Honestly, I did, but, twenty minutes after you left, I got an emergency call and had to go see a patient."

"What was wrong?"

"She was a first time mother pregnant with twins who thought she was having Braxton Hicks contractions, but, by the time I got there, her water had broke, she was fully dilated, and her body needed to push." Marissa stood up from her vanity table and followed the father of her children into their bathroom. He was getting undressed so he could shower, so she perched herself on the counter so she could continue talking to him. "There was no time to get her to a hospital or to call for a doctor, so I had to deliver the babies myself with no help. To make matters worse, they were both breach."

Interested in her story, he pressed for more information. "Were they all alright, the mom and her babies? And where was her husband when all this was going on?"

"Mother and daughters are resting comfortably at the hospital as we speak. They were both on the petite side, one weighing in at four pounds, two ounces and the other at three pounds, fifteen ounces, but they were both perfectly healthy. As for the husband, he was away on a business trip."

"When his very pregnant wife was home alone expecting his first child…children? The guy doesn't deserve them." Although it went unsaid, they both were aware of the underlying hatred her patient's husband invoked in Ryan, for the absentee father could only remind him of one person: her ex-husband - who had done the very same thing to her many years before.

"Not all men are as wonderful with their families as you are," Marissa complimented the man she loved. After giving birth to their youngest child, she had left the hospital to work in private care, paying house visits to expecting and new mothers to check up on or examine them when needed. Not only did it allow her the chance to spend more time with her family, but it was also more lucrative. "However, despite the day ending on a high note, – one of the little girls getting named after me – I still didn't get home until four this afternoon after jumping through all the bureaucratic hoops at the hospital, so I'm going to be dead on my feet tonight after all the guests go home."

He paused from inside the shower, opened the door, and stuck his head out to observe her. "That means you're running on less than three hours of sleep. Why didn't you call me and tell me to come home early so you could rest while I finished up all the last minute preparations?"

"Because I knew today was your meeting with your boss," she answered. "Did you get all the papers signed so you can take over the business?"

"Yep," Ryan responded from back inside the glass shower. "And they were delivered to the court house, too, so now we just have to wait for everything to be processed. What about the kids," he wanted to know. "The house seems too quiet for both Loren and Aristan to be home."

"Don't remind me of how empty it is," she chided him, the depth of her sadness even surprising the mother of four herself. "Loren refused to cancel her lesson at the gym, so she's going to shower and change for the party there, and Cooper promised to swing by and pick her up on his way here. Aristan's in his room though. He's finishing up the last touches on the mixes he made for tonight."

"Your bad habit of giving him anything and everything he ever wanted finally paid off," the construction worker realized, slightly teasing his wife. "At least his CD collection was large and varied enough that we didn't have to hire a dj for tonight."

"See, I knew what I was doing all along. Just imagine how big his collection will be by the time Loren gets married. He'll be able to help us out then, too."

Finished with his shower, Ryan stepped out of the stall and stood on the bathroom mat as he waited for her to hand him his towel. As he dried off, he corrected her. "She's not getting married, so you can just forget that idea."

The nurse smirked. "Now who's being overprotective? Whatever happened to letting them fall in love so they could leave us and have lots and lots of babies."

"No one is getting my little girl pregnant," he stated without room for argument. "So just forget that idea."

She watched as he stalked his way out of the ensuite, suddenly just as distracted and melancholic about their children growing up as she was. They really were perfect for each other, Marissa realized in that moment. Best of all though, they were as much in love as they had been years before when they had first admitted their feelings for one another. It was with him by her side that she would be able to hurdle the changes occurring in her life, just as she would always be by his side to help him get past the hard times in his life as well. After all, that's what a married couple did; they were each others rock, each others solace, each others everything at all times.

The engagement party was in full swing, the evening in everyone's opinion but hers had been a wonderful success, and the champagne was flowing…straight into her glass. Liquid comfort was acting as Marissa's saving grace that night. Already that evening, she had drank more alcohol than she had over the past several years, but it wasn't every day that a mother had to host her oldest child's engagement party and pretend to like her future daughter-in-law. To make matters worse, Ryan had been distracted away from her side by his boss, and, after the older gentleman had signed over his entire business to his employee that very day, they had agreed to cater to the older man's every need, the kids were off doing various things – Garrett dancing with his fiancé, Cooper playing basketball in the driveway with some of his older brother's single friends, Loren hiding out in a dark corner of the party so she could talk on her cell the whole time, and Aristan obsessing over the music – and she had been cornered by Susan's mother who wanted to discuss wedding preparations. So, in response, Marissa sat down with her, she smiled when such a gesture was necessary or appropriate, she sipped flute after flute of champagne, and she silently imagined various way of getting rid of the pain in her side that was her eldest son's bride-to-be.

"So, Susie wants a winter wedding, but, thankfully, I talked her out of a holiday themed one. Christmas and New Years are crazy enough without adding a wedding to the mix, so we've decided on early February for the date. Will that be alright with you and your husband?"

The nurse looked away from her spouse whom she had been following with her eyes for several minutes in a vain attempt to capture his pity and make him want to come to her rescue and observed the older woman sitting across from her. Susan Eleanor Thompson was the only daughter of a stay at home mother and an investment banker. She had taken after her father and had developed a love for numbers, going on to major in accounting in college and, after graduation, work for Ryan's boss. That's how Garrett had met her – at a Christmas party for the construction company, its employees and valued customers, and their families. Marissa hated her future daughter-in-law's mother with a passion, partly due to the fact that the woman looked down upon her and disapproved of a woman working and partly because she had given birth to the girl that was trying to steal Garrett away from her.

"It doesn't matter what Ryan and I want," she finally answered Mrs. Thompson. "It's not our wedding; it's Garrett and Susan's, so, if they want to be married at the beginning of February, then that's when they will be married. End of story."

"But your families aren't from this area," the other woman, Katherine, argued. "Won't you need to make sure your relatives will be able to travel up for the festivities?"

"There's no one to tell."

"Oh," the older woman frowned, pretending to be distressed on Marissa's behalf. "Are they all dead?"

"To us they are." Standing up, the mother of four pushed her chair back and took a deep breath before continuing. "Listen, we'll do whatever we can to help, but I'm not going to step in and steal Susan's thunder. I've already had my perfect wedding, and now it's her turn to plan her own. Whatever she and Garrett decide, Ryan and I will support, but we're not going to make their decisions for them. If they're old enough to get married, then they're old enough to plan a wedding. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and check on my daughter to see if her phone needs to be surgically removed from her ear."

However, before Marissa could make her getaway and join Loren in the darkest corner of the party, the aforementioned bride-to-be was at her side, lacing their arms together, and pulling her towards the gazebo. "Come on, Mom," Susan urged her, not noticing the older woman's cringe at the fact that she was referring to her so intimately. "I want to get some pictures of the whole family. I already sent Garrett to round up his siblings and Mr. Atwood." The nurse furrowed her brow at the accountant's last comment. Why was she Mom and Ryan was still Mr. Atwood? "We're supposed to meet them in the gazebo."

"Who's taking this picture?"

"We're actually taking two," the younger woman shared. "The first one I want to get just your immediately family, but, in the second one, I'm going to set my camera and pose with you. I figured you would want a copy of the first one, and the second one is for our scrapbook?"

"Your scrapbook?"

"Yeah, Garrett and I are making one together to chronicle our wedding. It was actually his idea," the bride-to-be gushed about her fiancé. "Wasn't that sweet of him?"

"Adorable," Marissa returned blandly. Tuning out her future daughter-in-law, she thought silently to herself. No doubt it was Loren's idea to make a scrapbook. Her oldest son must have gotten himself in trouble with his girlfriend and turned to his younger sister for advice. Obviously, he was wise to her anti-Susan feelings, and, though the mother of four felt slightly bad for not being there for her son when he potentially might have needed her, her animosity towards the younger woman was just too strong to ignore. She knew she was wrong, that she was being unreasonable and petty, but she couldn't help it, and she really didn't want to. The sight of her husband walking towards her though was enough, in that moment, to put a temporary smile on her cheerless face.

"Just a few more hours," he reassured her with both his words and a gentle, discreet hug. "And I have good news, too." Perking up, she watched him anxiously as she waited to hear his agreeable information. "Cooper wants Aristan to spend the night with him at his apartment so that he can burn a bunch of CD's off of him, and one of Loren's girlfriends asked her to spend the night, so you and me, Mrs. Atwood, are going to have the house to ourselves."

"You mean you, me, and Bagel?"

"Close enough," the construction worker joked. "It's not like that lazy pile of flesh is going to get up off his doggy bed anytime soon. He's probably out for the night."

She laughed and went to comment back, but, before she could say anything, their enjoyable moment was ruined by Susan interrupting them. "That's enough whispering you two," she chastised her future parents-in-law. "If you can't say whatever it is you're saying in front of all of us, you should just wait until you're alone."

Garrett must have been able to sense that his Mother was about to erupt, so he stepped in to alleviate the tension hanging over their small group. "Susie, why don't you just take the picture and quit teasing my Mom? She's pretty exhausted after only getting a few hours of sleep last night."

"Really, why," the younger woman wanted to know, ignoring her fiancé's looks of warning.

"I was up until four working on your party," Marissa answered tersely, leveling the accountant with an expression that was definitely not friendly, "and then I had an emergency with one of my patients to attend to all morning and afternoon."

"Mom delivered breach, premature twins all on her own today," Aristan spoke up, proud of his parent. "Isn't that pretty amazing?"

"Let's just hope she washed her hands afterwards," Susan joked. No one laughed.

"Just take the picture," Marissa heard her oldest son direct the younger woman. "Please?"

As their future daughter-in-law focused her camera, Ryan leaned into her and whispered comforting words in her ear. "Just take a deep breath. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. In fact, I think I'm going to kidnap you away from Mrs. Thompson and make you come with me to keep my ex-boss entertained."

"Is that a promise?"

He laughed before pressing a chaste kiss onto the gentle curve of her graceful neck. "No, but this is," her husband guaranteed before slipping his hand down her back to mischievously pat her still firm and round derrière. His gesture made her smile, and, luckily for all of them, the grin came just as Susan was snapping the picture, so the younger woman was content with the shot and forged ahead to take the second one with her in the photo with them.

Repeating the words under her breath that Ryan had used to comfort her mere minutes before, the mother of four patiently waited for the moment when they could all go their separate ways and she could forget Garrett's fiancé for at least a few seconds. Just a few more hours had suddenly become her new mantra.

"Hey, quit that," Ryan playfully scolded her later that night after all the guests had left. Removing the dirty dishes from her hands, he set them back down on the table and took her into his arms. "There will be no cleaning up tonight by you. The kids promised me they'd all be by tomorrow morning to help us, so we're going to wait for them."

"But we can't leave everything out all night," she argued, motioning towards the destruction which had been wrecked upon their once picture perfect, idyllic backyard. "What if a storm comes in?"

"It's July in California. There's no such thing as a sudden storm, and there is nothing predicted. And, if it does happen to rain," he teased her, "Mother Nature will take care of all the washing for us, free of charge."

"You're incorrigible."

"And, yet, you love me anyway," the construction worked joked, wrapping his right arm around her waist and walking her with him towards the temporary dance floor they had set up outside. One of Aristan's CD's was still playing, and the soft, melodic sounds of some obscure, artistic band soothingly washed over them. "Come on, you still owe me a dance."

"But you hate dancing," she questioned him, surprised by his sudden, unexpected romantic gesture.

"Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do," Ryan answered. "Like you tonight with this party. Besides," he added with a cheeky smile, "it's one thing to dance in public, but it's something completely different to have you all to myself in private when we dance."

Marissa laughed. "So this is where your efforts to seduce me come into play."

"Nope," he returned, shaking his head to reiterate his response, "because I won't have to seduce you. I never do. You always match me desire for desire, passion for passion."

"Perhaps it's the champagne talking, but you're sounding really romantic right now."

"It's the champagne," her husband reassured her before delicately placing a warm, inviting, loving kiss upon her lips. Pulling her body closer to his, they continued to sway to the music in perfect rhythm with each other.

As the moments passed and the night wore on, the songs continued and their movements became so infinitesimal, so private and sensual that it was difficult to tell if they were even still dancing. Her head was cuddled into his shoulder, and, every now and again, she would nuzzle his chin with her nose, letting the stubble on his face rasp against her silken skin as she dropped wet, open mouthed kisses upon his throat; his fingers possessive roamed her back, caressing the bare skin of her shoulders and drawling up the length of her knee skimming gown with every motion of his hand upon her curvaceous hip.

Before either of them were cognizant of what they were doing, Ryan was backing them up to the hammock, and they were falling onto it together, their clothes disappearing as quickly as their efforts would allow. With the privacy of the night surrounding them, the happily married couple made beautiful, passionate, frenzied love long into the night, finally falling asleep content in each others vulnerable, exposed embrace. The night might not have been perfect, but, together, they had made the most of it.

"Do you think Mom and Dad are still asleep," Loren asked her older brother the next morning as they made their way from his car to the backyard. The tone of her voice was skeptical. "The house still looks closed up from last night."

"They're old," Garrett responded impertinently with a wide smile on his handsome face. "Unlike us, they can't recover as quickly from a party."

"And it was such wild kegger, too," the fifteen year old said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "What time did Cooper and Aristan say they were going to meet us here?"

"Knowing those two, it's going to be just us cleaning up for a few hours."

"So then we should leave the really miserable tasks for them, right," the younger of the two siblings suggested. "What do you think: dishes or trash pick up?"

"Why not both," Garrett proposed. "It'll take us a few hours, at least, to get all the decorations down, especially if Mom wants us to save all those Chinese lanterns. If they couldn't get their lazy asses out of bed in time to get here when we did, then tough shit."

"Does Susie kiss that mouth," the high school student teased her older brother. His only response was to cuff her upside the back of the head. "Anyway, no matter what, I have to be out of here and at cheerleading practice by one o'clock, so, if this place isn't done by then, you're going to have to call that fiancé of yours and wake her pampered butt up to come and help."

"You're too much like Mom for your own good, do you know that? What do the two of you have against Susan?"

"She's just too…everything. I mean, did you hear her last night? She called our mother Mom, like she was already an accepted member of this family, and then she went and taunted Mom and Dad for talking to each other. I thought Mom was going to go for her jugular there for a minute."

"You and me both," the twenty-five year old agreed. "Why do you think I stepped in?" She nodded in recognition of his words, and they continued to make their way out back. "I just wish you guys would give her a chance. Really, you'd like her if you did."

"You're probably right, but we're not all going to instantly become BFF's, Garrett."

Exasperated, he pointed out, "we've been dating for a year and a half now! How much time do you want?"

"Give us a decade or so and we should be good to go."

"Mom's impossible, and you're a spoiled brat."

"Why thank you, big brother," Loren teased, brushing her lips across her older sibling's cheek. "You really do give the best…"

Suddenly she froze, and the architect watched her curiously. "What the hell's the matter with you? Are you sick? You're not going to toss your cookies are you?"

"A barf bucket might be a good idea. Just…whatever you do, do not look in the direction of the hammock. If you do, you'll be scarred for life."

"What," Garrett asked, ignoring his sister's advice and glancing in the ill-advised direction. "Oh my god, I think I just burned my retinas," he bemoaned, hurrying to reach up and cover his eyes as if the gesture would block the display he had just witnessed. "Do other people have parents who do this kind of stuff, or are we just the doomed ones? Don't they realize they're not supposed to have sex anymore? Once you hit forty, that's it, the sex life is supposed to shrivel up and die forever."

"I'll remember to remind you of that when you turn the big four-zero."

"Seriously, Loren, why didn't you warn me?"

"What part of don't look in the direction of the hammock didn't you understand, genius," the fifteen year old taunted her brother. "Come on," she motioned for him to follow her. "Let's go inside and wait for them to get up. I think, if nothing else, this is a perfect excuse to watch Saturday morning cartoons instead of cleaning up."

"You read my mind." As they climbed the back steps that led to the deck and eventually the patio doors off the family room, she started giggling uncontrollably. "What? What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about what would have happened if Susan would have come with you," the gymnastics enthusiast confided while struggling to take a deep breath because she was laughing so hard. "Talk about your initiation into the family."

It took several moments, but, eventually, Garrett joined in her mirth. "That would be pretty priceless, wouldn't it?"

As the two siblings disappeared into the house, they never noticed their parents very much awake and watching them. After sharing a knowing smirk and cuddling closer together to combat the chill of the early summer morning, they closed their eyes, determined to sleep in - anything to feel young again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Pick up, pick up, pick up!"

She really was getting too old for this. Scrambling around her kitchen in nothing but her socks, underwear, and scrubs top, she attempted to clean up her cooking supplies the best she could while waiting for her pants to dry. Aristan's birthday dinner was in the process of being prepared, but, after receiving an emergency call from the hospital, she had to go into work and put the meal on hold. That was unless Ryan picked up his cell phone and said that he could come home early.

She was in the middle of turning off the meat and covering it when her husband's voice suddenly sounded in her ear. "This is a really bad time, honey. Can I call you back in a couple of hours?"

"What," Marissa wailed, frustrated that nothing was going the way she wanted. She had taken the day off to make sure that her son's birthday was special. Instead of a party with his friends, her youngest child had requested a quiet, intimate family dinner, and she had promised to make him his favorite foods. They were going to stay up late, eat together, reminisce about their most treasured memories, and watch him as he opened his presents, and she wasn't sure who was more excited about the night to come – her or Aristan. "In a couple of hours I'll be elbow deep into a surgery."

"What happened to not working today?"

"The hospital is short staffed right now, because several of the maternity nurses are, appropriately enough, on maternity leave. They know that I'll fill in for them if necessary, and it was an emergency. It's a young girl who is seven months pregnant with her first child, and her placenta ruptured. I couldn't be selfish and say no; I had to help."

Attempting to comfort his wife, Ryan reassured her, "Aristan will understand. He would want you to go to the hospital and scrub in."

Putting the perishable foods away in the fridge, she slammed the door to the appliance shut, ran into the laundry room to grab her still damp pants, and tossed them on, grabbing her purse, her keys, and her shoes and sprinting to her car without even stopping to put the latter items on. "I didn't want him to have to understand though. That's why I'm calling. You can't make it home early and start getting things ready for me?"

"I'll try, but it doesn't look so good."

"Bad day," she asked while pulling out of the driveway.

"I have a whole crew who never showed at one job site, another job site that is completely flooded because the next door neighbor left their sprinkler system on all night and the excess water ran into my clients' yard, and a lumber supplier who decided to raise his prices with absolutely no warning." Hearing him sigh, she could imagine her spouse running his free hand roughly overly his work worn face. "Yeah, it's been one of those days, and it's only two o'clock so far. What about the kids?"

"Uh…," Marissa was confused. "What about them?"

"Cooper's decided to be a bartender this month, right," he asked, "so his afternoons should be free. Couldn't he come over to the house and start setting things up for this evening?"

"Ryan, did you forget? He's in Canada trying out for a minor league team this week."

"But I thought he was going to try and make it home in time," the father of four pressed. "Didn't he promise Aristan that he'd be there tonight?"

"He promised that he'd try, but I talked to him this morning after you left for work, and he's made it past the first cut, so there's no way he'll be able to fly home. As for the other two brats," she sighed, unable to keep a note of motherly pride out of her voice when referring to her children, "Garrett's at work, and I already dropped Loren off at the gym for the day and don't have time to pick her up and take her home. In fact, I'm pretty much racing the ambulance at this point, because, as soon as the patient reaches the hospital, she's getting rushed into surgery. They're holding on OR for us."

Hesitantly, he started to suggest, "well, if it's our last option,…"

"Absolutely not!"

"Come on, Marissa, don't you think you're being a tad ridiculous? He's going to marry her whether you approve or not, so she's going to be your daughter-in-law. Maybe," Ryan argued, "this could be a way the two of you could bond."

"Susan is not stepping foot in my kitchen," the nurse responded vehemently. "Putting aside my own personal feelings for her, she doesn't know how to cook, and, when I come home this evening, I want my house to actually still be standing. Her burning it down will not engender warm and fuzzy feelings inside of me for her."

"So then what do you want to do?"

"I should only be a couple of hours, so, hopefully, I'll be home by five at the latest, and I'll be able to get dinner finished before Aristan comes back from his friend's house at seven."

Needing more information, the construction company owner pressed, "and do we have to pick him up?"

"Garrett is going to swing by and get him on his way over," Marissa answered. "If you could get Loren from the gym and get home as early as you can, the two of you can wrap the presents and hang up a few decorations for me."

"I can't promise you anything," he warned her, "but I'll try."

"No matter what, you have to pick her up."

"I will," Ryan swore. "But, for now, I have to go and break up a fight between one of my foremen and the owner of the lumber company."

She laughed, the sound of her mirth making them both relax slightly. "You mean you're going to push your way in between them and end up probably punching both guys out."

"Only if you'll be there to take care of me when I come home all bloodied and bruised."

"Always," she pledged. "Give em' hell."

"Good luck," he returned, referencing her surgery. And, with his words of encouragement resonating through her mind, she flipped her cell phone shut, turned it off before tossing it into the center console of her SUV, and pulled into the staff parking lot of the hospital. Leaving the quiet sanctuary of her vehicle, she ran for the automatic doors that would escort her into the hectic hell that awaiting her inside. She was simply going in and out. No delays, no dawdling, no complications. As soon as her one, lone surgery was finished, she would scrub out, leave, and be home in time to make sure her baby had a wonderful thirteenth birthday. Piece of still unbaked cake.

She was late, and she was in so much trouble. One surgery had turned into three as the emergency room was flooded with urgent maternity cases. After saving the life of the mother with the ruptured placenta and the life of her premature baby, she and the other staff members who worked on the third floor in the obstetrics and neonatal wing had performed surgery on an eptopic pregnancy and delivered a baby boy during an emergency c-section while its mother bled out after a car crash. It had been stressful, time consuming, and necessary. There had been no way she could leave the hospital and know that her refusal to stay and help had led to someone else's death. Unfortunately though, if her husband didn't kill her for arriving three hours later than she had hoped, her son was going to disown her.

The house was awash in light when she stepped into it, but there wasn't a balloon or streamer in sight, and, instead of the merry sounds of her family talking and laughing together, she heard Loren crying and Ryan yelling. Quickly, she made her way into the family room where she found her husband pacing in front of the couch where her obviously injured daughter lay resting in the middle of a fit of tears.

"You're going to the hospital, young lady," Ryan ordered in a loud voice, the scowl on his face and the rigid stance of his tense body alerting the world to the fact that he was upset. "Your ankle could be broken!"

"I rolled it, Dad," Loren bemoaned. Furiously wiping away a fresh wave of tears, she continued, "I landed wrong when I dismounted from the beam, rolled it, and now it's strained."

"If that's all it is, why are you still crying?"

"Because it's going to take weeks to heal," the fifteen year old yelled back. "That means I'm going to miss several tournaments, not to mention practically half the football season! Dad, I made varsity," she continued. "Do you know how rare it is for a sophomore to make the varsity cheer squad? The other girls are counting on me, and I'm going to be useless for at least a month."

"That's all," Ryan visibly relaxed, taking a deep breath and collapsing onto the chair beside the sofa. "You're sure it's not broken?"

Instead of answering, their daughter simply picked up a pillow, held it over her face, and screamed into the padded fabric as loudly as she could. Marissa figured it was a good time to make her presence known.

"I'll check her ankle out later to make sure there isn't a hairline fracture," she promised her husband, moving to sit on the arm of his chair. "What's going on," she questioned, motioning to the otherwise empty house. "I don't smell dinner cooking. Where are the boys?"

"They're not here yet." Looking up and meeting her gaze, he added, "and you're late."

"The hospital was understaffed, and there were two more emergency surgeries. I had to stay." She let her husband pull her into his lap and snuggled into his warm, comforting embrace. "I'm exhausted, I must need new tennis shoes, because my feet are killing me, and Aristan's birthday is ruined. Plus, I'm still on call. I could be paged back in at any moment."

"We still have time," Ryan reassured her, calmly soothing one of his strong hands through her long, blonde locks and, in the process, removing the pins that had been holding it up. "We'll put Loren on balloon duty since she can't walk or stand up,…"

"Nice, Dad," the in question teenager complained. Irritated, she threw the pillow she had been holding towards them, narrowly missing her father's head. Despite the stress they were all feeling, the three of them chuckled before Ryan continued talking.

"You and I can finish dinner together, and, if the presents don't get wrapped, it won't be a big deal. By the time Garrett and Susan get here with Aristan, they'll never even have to know that you were late getting home."

"I can't believe they're not here yet," Marissa stated while climbing off his lap. "Did they call and say they were running behind, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ryan, it's almost 8:30," she exclaimed, pointing to the clock resting on the fireplace mantle. "How did you not know that?"

"He was a little distracted, Mom," Loren explained, motioning towards her injured ankle. "It's my fault Dad's having a you moment."

"Very funny," she teased her daughter, passing by her on her way into the kitchen and bending over to press a maternal kiss to her only little girl's brow. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you need me to get you anything?"

Before the fifteen year old could respond, the front door was noisily pushed open and an incensed Garrett marched into the room, rambling incoherently to himself in a voice loud enough the neighbors could have heard him. "Fondue fountains, have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous? And not just one, but three! I warned her when we got engaged, I did, but did she listen, of course not! Do you want to know why? Because she's a woman, and women never listen to anything men have to say!"

"Wow, pipe down there, Al Bundy," Loren teased her oldest brother. "Mom just spent all afternoon in the OR, so you might want to watch the chauvinist talk. You know how hours on her feet make her cranky. What you're saying, those are fighting words."

"Shut up," Marissa hissed towards her daughter, silencing her with a glare. Whispering, she explained, "Let him vent. This might be the end of the engagement."

Their only daughter smiled, brightening up at the idea her mother presented. "In that case, carry on."

"You two," Ryan chastised them, "both need to quit. That's not what's important right now."

Surprised, Garrett questioned him, "it's not?"

"No, it's not. You were supposed to pick up Aristan at his friend's house an hour and a half ago," the father of four reminded the angry young man of twenty five standing before him. "Did you forget about your little brother?"

"I might have gotten slightly…sidetracked."

"Oh, this is not good," Marissa lamented, collapsing onto the ottoman which, luckily, was positioned directly behind where she stood.

"It's not that big of a deal," the architect dismissed, jiggling his keys in his hand. "I'll go and pick him up right now. We'll be back in ten minutes."

"That's not just it though," Ryan enlightened their oldest child. "Dinner hasn't been made yet, none of his presents are wrapped, there are no decorations ready to hang up, and Loren broke her ankle this afternoon."

"I did not break my ankle," the teenager clarified, arguing with her father. "I sprained it, and Dad's paranoia is showing…again."

"We're just going to have to order in dinner," the nurse announced, dusting off her hands as if she was about to set off on an unsavory task. "There's no time to cook anything. I'll just make the meal that Aristan requested tomorrow night."

"Well, what about me," Garrett wanted to know. "I've been looking forward to a home cooked meal for weeks. Am I still invited tomorrow night?"

"You're always invited for dinner," Marissa promised him, kissing his cheek as she passed through the entrance of the room and into the kitchen.

"What about a birthday cake though," she heard her husband ask. His question made her pause and turn back around.

"I guess we'll just have to have birthday sundaes instead. I'll bake his cake tomorrow, too."

"Yes," Loren cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "I hate carrot cake."

"Well, it's not your birthday," Ryan pointed out, "so we weren't really concerned about your likes and dislikes."

"But I'm injured," she pouted, making her brother laugh. "Besides, you know as well as I do that Aristan only says he likes carrot cake because he knows I hate it."

"Right," Garrett mocked her, "because his whole world revolves around you, right princess?"

"It should."

"Alright, that's enough," Marissa interrupted them before they could really start to fight. "Save your bickering for when your little brother's here, too. We don't want him to feel as if he missed out on anything." Both children rolled their eyes but stopped arguing. "Now, go get Aristan," she instructed her oldest son. He left without another word. "Loren, if I get you the crutches, do you think you'll be able to set the table for me?"

"My trainer said I should stay off my ankle as much as possible, Mom."

"You're not going to be on your ankle, daughter; you're going to be on the crutches. That's the point of me getting them for you."

"I'll get the crutches while you call and order the food," Ryan broke into their little battle of wills, "and she will set the table." As he walked past her, Marissa stopped him briefly to give him a chaste, appreciative kiss.

"Ugh, get a room," their fifteen year old taunted as she struggled to sit up on the couch. "Shouldn't menopause and erectile dysfunction be setting in soon? A girl could only hope." Realizing what she just said, Loren groaned again, "ugh, I can't believe I just said that about my own parents. Disgusting."

"That table isn't going to set itself," the mother of four reminded her only daughter. Laughing softly to herself as she finally finished walking her way into the kitchen, she couldn't help but wonder about what the teenager had just said. Menopause certainly could already be starting for her. After all, her periods had been so irregular and sporadic after she had Aristan, it would take her several months to realize that major changes were occurring inside of her body. No matter what though, she would just roll with the punches. Her life, as that day had proven, was too hectic to worry about things before they happened, especially things she couldn't stop even if she wanted to. Instead, she needed to focus on the day to day – making sure that her youngest child's birthday was as perfect as she could make it in a few minutes of preparation, being there for her oldest child if his engagement fell though (and what a travesty that would be), and taking care of her only daughter by nursing her ankle back to health. Picking up the house phone, she dialed the number for their favorite, local pizzeria, and, as she ordered, all other thoughts floated away from her mind. With so many things on her plate, she could only focus on the here and the now, and even that managed to keep her too busy to relax. Everything else would simply just have to wait.

"So, on a scale from one to ten," Marissa asked, looking down beside her at her youngest son, "how disappointing was your birthday?" The thirteen year old was barely five foot, and, though he still hadn't had his growth spurt yet, she didn't think he'd ever be as tall as his Dad, and Ryan was no star basketball center.

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"About an eight," Aristan answered. "I don't mean to be ungrateful…"

"I know," she reassured him, "and I don't blame you. Your birthday was pretty much a total bust. Nothing went right. I got called into hospital,…"

"But that was important," he interrupted her. "I wouldn't have wanted anyone to die because you refused to go into work. My birthday's not that big of a deal."

Of all her kids, her youngest seemed the most interested in her job. He would always ask her about her patients, brag to his friends when she did something he found to be remarkable, and encourage her even when she had to miss important events in his life to help save someone else. In fact, it wouldn't surprise Marissa if, in the future, her son went into medicine himself.

"It's because you care about other people's welfare so much though that you deserved to have everything you wanted."

"I had my family here with me," Aristan argued, not willing to let her feel too badly about their ruined plans, "and that was the most important thing."

"But Cooper's not here," she pressed. The more she thought about how they had all disappointed the thirteen year old, the worse she felt.

"He'd be here if he could," he responded. Taking the clean plate she was holding in her hands and drying it off, the music lover continued. "I wouldn't want him to miss out on a chance to finally play baseball professionally just so he could be at my birthday party. Did I miss him, sure, of course, but this is Cooper's dream."

"His only dream," Marissa concurred. "Between you and me," she confided, "I'm a little worried about him. What's he going to do if this doesn't work out?"

"He'll try out again for as long as it takes until he makes it."

"But he's twenty-four," the nurse stressed. "Eventually, he's going to be too old to play ball. He dropped out of college, he doesn't have a degree to fall back on, and I doubt he wants to bartend for the rest of his life."

"Mom," Aristan stopped her, throwing his dishtowel aside and turning the faucet off. "You worry too much. Cooper will figure things out for himself. He knows that you're here for him, that you love him, and, if he needs your help, he'll ask you for it, but there's no sense upsetting yourself for no reason. Look at Bagel," he pointed towards the family dog who was sleeping peacefully in his doggie bed. "I think you need to take some cues from him."

"Bagel drinks toilet water, runs away scared from his own shadow, and likes watching car insurance commercials," Marissa stated. Her finely sculpted eyebrows raised on a challenge. "Do you really want me to behave like he does?"

"Okay, so he has some questionable traits," the thirteen year old acknowledged, "but he's also pretty Zen. Sometimes you just need to take a deep breath and chill, Mom."

"Chill, huh," Marissa repeated her son's advice in the form of a question. Wrapping her left arm around his shoulders, she pulled the teenager towards her and hugged him playfully. "I'll see what I can do about that. For now though, let's go upstairs and make sure your sister hasn't badgered your Dad to death."

"She's going to drive us crazy with this ankle, isn't she?"

"Probably," the mother four admitted. With her arm still around him, they made their way together towards the foyer and the stairs that would take them upstairs. "Again, I'm sorry about your presents," she apologized, bringing up their topic from before. Switching off the lights, she explained. "I know that school clothes and supplies are not the most exciting gifts in the world, but you needed them."

"I know," Aristan declared, "and I really like what you picked out." She could hear the disappointment in his voice, despite her youngest child's attempt to disguise it. "Plus, I can't wait to spend the gift card Garrett, Cooper, and Loren went in on together for me. Two hundred bucks to buy CD's, it's going to be great."

"You do know that they're going to make you burn them copies of everything you buy, don't you?"

"Don't worry," he joined in on her laughter. "Blank CD's are on my list of things to buy." By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Marissa stopped, braced herself against the wall, and took a deep breath. "Mom, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, attempting to put her son's worries to rest. "That pizza was just really spicy tonight. I have heartburn." Although it wasn't a lie, it was a convenient reason get Aristan to go into her room. "Would you mind quickly getting me a glass of water from my bathroom, please?"

"Sure, no problem. Wait here," he instructed her.

Looking up, the nurse watched as her baby pushed open her bedroom door, turned on the lights, and froze in place merely two steps into the room. The look of sheer shock on his face made her smile brightly. It was exactly the reaction she had been hoping for.

"What…what's that?"

"You're the musician," she teased the thirteen year old. "You tell me."

"That's a Les Paul guitar," he answered, still stunned.

"Oh, okay."

Apparently, Aristan never heard her nonchalant, joking response. "That's a Les Paul guitar sitting on your bed."

"It appears so."

Not taking his eyes off the instrument, he asked, "why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it here?"

"Oh, that," Marissa dismissed, barely concealing her amusement. As Ryan and a hobbling Loren came up behind her, the three of them shared a sly glance. "It's yours. Your Dad and I got it for you for your birthday, but I completely forgot about it. Do you like it?"

"It's a 1960 Les Paul Standard with a cherry burst finish." Taking another step towards the guitar, her youngest child continued. "What do you think?"

"I think it's pretty," the mother of four answered, shrugging her shoulders dispassionately as she kept up her ruse of indifference and boredom.

"Pretty doesn't even begin to describe it," Aristan contradicted her. "It's got a carved figured maple top and a solid, relieved, mahogany back with nickel hardware and an aluminum stopbar. The neck's mahogany, the fingerboard is rosewood, and it has vintage tulip tuners. It has CTS pots and bumble bee capacitors, and it comes with a two volume, two tone, three-way selector switch. It's much better than pretty." Finally circling around, he was barely able to tear his light blue eyes away from the unwrapped present to regard his parents and sister, "but it's also insanely expensive. How can you afford…"

"Hey, none of that," Marissa immediately stopped him. "You let your Dad and I worry about the cost. Besides," she pressed, "you deserve it, and you've never once asked for something this extravagant."

"I didn't ask for this either though," he pointed out. "How did you even know?"

"I was a little bit of a snoop," she answered, flinching slightly. "I saw you were on the Gibson website one day when I brought up your clean laundry, so, after you went to bed, I snuck back into your room and…kind of went through the history on your computer to see what you were looking at. This is what I found."

"That's really creepy, Mom," Aristan shuddered, "but, if this is the result, then I'm cool with your Sydney Bristow moment. Just don't do it again, okay?"

"Fair enough," she agreed readily.

"But, seriously, Mom, I know how much this cost. Are you sure it's alright?"

"Your brothers were always draining us dry to buy all their sports equipment," she replied. "Hell, Cooper still manages to mooch money off of me for new gloves and bats, and Loren's gymnastic lessons do not come cheap. This is our way of telling you that we believe in your talents, that you're an excellent musician. Not many kids can teach themselves how to play one instrument, let alone four, Aristan. You've never asked for lessons, you've never asked for expensive things before, and you're a good kid who gets amazing grades, so don't start acting up now and arguing with me. We're giving you this guitar, and you're going to drive your Dad and I crazy every night when you plug it into your amp and play so loudly that you make the window panes rattle. Do you understand?"

By the time she finished mock yelling at him, the thirteen year old was laughing. "Fine already; you can spoil me if you want to."

"Good. Now come over here and let me cry and blubber all over you," Marissa ordered.

Obliging, Aristan enveloped her into a tight embrace, even letting her go so far as to kiss his cheeks several times. Finally breaking away from her, he moved on to hug both Ryan and Loren, albeit the embrace he shared with his sister was slightly loose and offered reluctantly. "I'll be right back," he announced after stepping away from the three of them.

"Where are you going? I know it's summer, but it's still a little too late to call your friends."

"I'm going to get Mom a glass of water," he answered his Father's question before disappearing into the bathroom.

"Water," Ryan asked, "for what?"

"Oh, I have a little heartburn," she dismissed with a wave of her slender hand. "Nothing to worry about."

"Heartburn," he repeated, regarding her closely.

"Don't look at me that way," Marissa chided him. "The pizza was spicy."

"Not any spicier than normal, Mom," Loren argued. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Just then, her pager went off, distracting all of them. "Oh, look at that," the mother of four exclaimed. "Saved by the beeper. It's a 911. A six months pregnant woman was…" Her words trailed off, going unspoken just as Aristan reappeared from the bathroom. Taking the glass of water he offered her, she drank it down quickly. "Thank you, sweetie," she said in a hurry, pulling him towards her one last time for a quick hug and kiss. "And happy birthday!"

"Wait," her husband stopped her. "What is it? Why did you stop talking just then?"

"It's just…it's bad," she answered, meeting his gaze. "Really bad, and there's no need to make the three of you worry about something you have no control over. I'll be late though, so don't wait up."

She kissed Ryan goodbye as well before running out of the room. Thankful that she left her scrubs on from earlier in the day, she simply grabbed her keys, purse, and shoes, just like before, and ran back out to her car. Apparently, there was just no way she could escape the baby drama that day. It surrounded her…in more ways than one.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Good morning, Beautiful," Ryan greeted her as he set two steaming cups of coffee aside on his night table and slid back under the covers with his wife, effectively trapping her in his arms despite her best attempts. "Happy birthday."

With her husband spooned up around her back, Marissa rolled her eyes and forced back a groan of impatience. All she wanted to do was hide away from the day and be alone. "Don't remind me."

"What's wrong," he asked, stiffening beside her and sitting up. "You've always enjoyed your birthdays in the past."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't turning forty-five in the past, was I?"

"Honey, it's just an age. It doesn't reflect anything about you," the father of four tried to persuade her. "You don't act your age, you don't look your age, and," he added, pushing her down onto her back and moving so he could hover above her, his lips brushing against hers when he spoke, "you certainly don't make love like someone who's forty-five."

"And how would you know," she asked, pushing him off of her and standing up. "How many middle aged women have you slept with before, Ryan?" He had not been expecting that question. She watched her startled husband as he grappled with her mood and behavior, finally becoming impatient when he didn't say anything. "That many, huh? I didn't realize you went for the older women before we became a couple. It must have been all your other clients' wives."

"Marissa, where is this coming from?" Joining her, he stood up and followed her as she moved into their ensuite. "Why are you trying to pick a fight with me today?"

"Me," the nurse asked, feigning insult. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are. You're purposely baiting and insulting me so that I'll snap and argue back with you. What I want to know is why."

"Maybe I just don't like being told how I should feel," she snapped, gliding past her husband to go back into their bedroom so she could rifle through her drawers and find something to wear that day. "You have no idea what it's like to be me, how it feels to be forty-five with four kids and knowing that there's going to be another addition to the family soon."

"Susan," Ryan realized, shaking his head in slight annoyance. "You need to let this go. They made up, the wedding it back on, and you're going to have to accept that Garrett is marrying her whether you approve or not."

"They made up because they compromised," the blonde haired, blue eyed woman screamed back at her husband, "and do you know what that compromise consisted of? Susan gave up one of her three fondue fountains, because Garrett agreed to not include Bagel in the ceremony. That was our son's one request for the whole wedding, and she forced him to sacrifice it."

"Marissa, it's their relationship. Do I agree with the way that Susan treats Garrett sometimes? Of course I don't, but it's none of our business." Sighing, he rubbed his two hands up and down his weary face, collapsing onto the stool before her vanity. "Look, can't you just let go of this hatred you have for Susan for one day? I wanted to spend the day with you, just the two of us. I thought we could spend the morning in bed…"

"That's just great," the nurse exclaimed, interrupting him. Tossing her hands up in air, she immediately attacked him. "Is that all you think about? Sex? It's what got us in this mess in the first place."

"You're making absolutely no sense," Ryan claimed. "Personally, I don't see how our sex life has anything to do with the whole Garrett-Susan fiasco, but that's just me. However, I'm not going to apologize for wanting to spend time with my wife. If you're not in the mood to make love this morning though, that's fine, just say so. All I care about is making sure you have a wonderful birthday."

"Did you ever think that maybe I already had plans? Did you ever think that maybe I just want to be by myself sometimes? God," the mother of four exhaled as she flung her clothes for the day down onto the floor in a frustrated huff, "I feel like I'm suffocating here. If it's not the kids wanting something from me, it's you or it's work, and I just…I can't do it today, not today. I need, just once, to be alone. I need to actually be able to take a deep breath and relax. Can you do that for me? Can you just leave me alone?"

"Yeah, no problem," her husband answered. "You know what? Just forget it – forget my plans, forget the fact that your family loves you and wants to spend time with you, forget that not everything is about you all the time, Marissa. Just, forget it." Standing up from his seat, he stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

She knew he wasn't really angry with her, that he was upset and disappointed and hurt, and, though that had not been her intention, she really did feel as if the world was on her shoulders, crushing her down, and that there was nothing she could do to alleviate the stress and pressure. Wiping away the tears that she hadn't even realized were falling, she quickly took off her pajamas, stepped into the shower, and ignored her reflection in the mirror. The sight of her own body was something she wasn't ready to face yet, at least not that early on the morning in which she both turned forty-five and learned for a fact that she was carrying her fifth child. She wanted…needed a few more hours of ignorance.

"Marissa," Doctor Patricia Allen, her OB-GYN chastised her, "how did you let this happen, and, for heaven's sake, why haven't you come to see me sooner? You're already eight weeks along. At your age and with your condition, you should have already seen me a few times."

"It's not like we planned this."

"Well, you certainly did nothing to prevent it."

"Look," the nurse snapped, channeling her fear into bitterness and resentment, "it was an accident, okay? I'm forty-five years old, my periods have been unstable at best since I had Aristan thirteen years ago, and, during the last year, they had pretty much tapered off almost completely. I thought I was in the early stages of menopause, and on the night of my son's engagement party," she sneered the last two words, "I had a little too much to drink, my husband was trying to comfort and distract me from the fact that I hate my future daughter-in-law, and one thing led to another. Two months later, here we are. I'm pregnant…again."

"You were in denial, weren't you," the physician asked. Taking a seat in front of her patient, she made her voice as gentle as possible. "Is that why you put off coming to see me, because you weren't ready to face the truth yet?"

The sympathetic concern was Marissa's undoing. Sniffing, she wiped her watering eyes and runny nose on the long sleeves of her cardigan sweater, eagerly accepting the Kleenexes her doctor handed her a moment later. "I guess that's to some extent why." Shrugging her shoulders, she expanded upon her statement. "Part of me didn't want to come and see you because then it would be final, it would be real, but another part of me was angry at myself for letting this happen. I mean, look at my life, Patricia. I cannot have another baby."

"Does that mean that you and Ryan want to terminate the pregnancy, because, with your very serious health issues, I think that might be a good idea?"

"Stop it," the younger woman snapped, glaring at her coworker and friend. "Do not even suggest that I get rid of my child."

"But you just said…"

"I know what I said," she sighed, closing her eyes in frustration and doubt, "but this child is already a part of me, and it's a part of my husband. I can't have an abortion."

Nodding her head to show that she understood, Doctor Allen stood up from her stool, squeezed her patient's hand, and made her way over towards her desk. "And what does Ryan have to say about this? To tell you the truth, I'm surprised he's not here."

"Ryan doesn't know yet."

"You haven't told him," the OB-GYN realized. The shock she was feeling was evident in her tone. "Marissa, why not?"

"I wasn't ready to say anything to him yet, but I'm going to tell him tonight." When she felt her physician's doubting gaze upon her, she reiterated, "I will. I promise that I will."

"Good, because you need to tell him. You're going to need all the support and love that he can offer you. This is not going to be easy. Having a baby at forty-five is a whole different experience than having a baby at thirty-two."

"I'm a maternity nurse," the mother of four protested. "I think I know a little bit about medicine, too, Patricia."

"It's one thing to look at a case from an impartial, professional standpoint, but it's impossible to have that kind of objectivity when you are the patient." Picking up Marissa's chart, the doctor started to make several notations while she continued to talk. "First of all, I know that you've given birth to all four of your children vaginally, but I'm not about to let what happened last time occur with this pregnancy. We're going to schedule you a cesarean well in advance so that we don't risk your life."

"I can live with that."

"Well, that's good, because this wasn't up for discussion. I might be your friend, but I'm your doctor first, and, as your doctor, it is my responsibility to make sure that you and your baby make it through the next seven months and that you both come out of this experience alive." Clicking off her pen, the sound like a gavel going off in a courtroom, the OB-GYN put down her patient's chart and regarded her closely once again. "Secondly, we need to talk about the potential threats to your health and your baby's. You've had problems with high blood pressure before, and, now that you're pregnant and past the age of thirty-five, we really need to worry about toxemia. The bottom line is that you cannot let your body develop it, and don't you dare think that I won't put you on full time bed rest to prevent it if I have to. Not only do I have to guarantee that you are safe for your future child, but I have to make sure that you survive this for your husband and the four, healthy, happy children you already have that love you."

"Alright," Marissa nodded, "what do you want me to do?"

"Cut your hours at work in half, take your name off the on-call list, and I'm going to put you on a very strict, very necessary diet and exercise program to keep your blood pressure down. However, the most important thing is," the doctor eyed her closely before she continued, "you must avoid stress at all costs, no matter what."

She couldn't help it; the nurse snorted. "Yes, because that's going to be so easy to do with my family. Patricia, get real."

"I am so real right now, someone should give me my own reality show. Manage your own life and your stress level, or I will do it for you."

Holding up her hands in surrender, the mother of four gave in. "I'll try my hardest. Now, what else do we have to watch out for?"

"You're still not out of the woods yet as far as a miscarriage goes. One in every four pregnancies conceived in women after the age of forty result in miscarriage. Plus," the physician added, "your baby's chance of having a birth defect is significantly greater. Approximately one in every 1,400 babies born to women in their twenties have Down syndrome, but, for women in their forties, like you are, that percentage increases to one in every one hundred. Stillbirths and low birth weight are also more prevalent with pregnant women your age. The question now becomes do you want to test for birth defects and chromosomal abnormalities?"

Blinking rapidly, it took Marissa several moments to absorb what her Ob-GYN had just told her. Finally, she responded. "I…I don't know."

"The tests are fairly common. Obviously, because of the fact that you're high risk, we'll perform several ultrasounds throughout your pregnancy, but we can also do a quad marker screen which tests the blood for problems in the development of the fetus' brain, spinal cord, and other neural tissues."

"And, if we decided to perform this test, what exactly does it look for?"

"It checks for spina bifida, anencephaly, and Down syndrome, but the test cannot be run until the fifteenth week of gestation. There are other tests as well though." Reaching for several pamphlets, the doctor handed them to her patient before continuing. "We could also, within the next few weeks, perform a first trimester screen which will test for chromosomal abnormalities or, later in the pregnancy, conduct an amniocentesis to check for sickle cell disease, cystic fibrosis, and muscular dystrophy."

Standing up from the table, Marissa took several minutes to rearrange herself, straightening her clothes, patting down her hair, wiping off her tears, and putting away the pamphlets in her purse. Once she and her emotions were under control, she turned back to her physician and asked, "and if you find that my baby does indeed have a birth defect or a chromosomal abnormality, then what? Am I just supposed to get rid of it because it's not perfect?"

"That's not something I or any other doctor can answer for you. It's a decision only you and Ryan can make together. Talk to him," the OB-GYN urged. "This is something you're going to need him to get through."

Before she could respond, the pregnant mother felt tears, once again, pool and turn her eyes into a liquid blue. Finally, she found her voice. "Thank you," Marissa swallowed thickly, edging her tears off. "Thank you, Patricia, for caring enough to tell me the truth, no matter how ugly it may be." Pausing, she laughed softly. "You're going to be with me, right, every step of the way?"

"By the time you have this beautiful, healthy baby, you're going to be so sick of me, you're going to want to transfer hospitals and work somewhere else just in an effort to avoid seeing my gorgeous face." Sobering quickly, the doctor took her patient's hands and squeezed them. "I'm going to get you through this, Marissa. Now, before you leave, make sure you make an appointment for next week."

"Next week?"

"Yes, we'll have regular check ups once a week until you reach your third trimester, and then we'll be seeing each other almost every other day." The older woman went to leave the room and, in fact, had the door open before she paused. "Oh, and one more thing – make sure that Ryan's here with you next week. He and I need to have a little chat."

With a friendly wink, the doctor was gone, leaving Marissa with more fears and more insecurities than she had ever faced before in her life. Happy birthday indeed.

This was seriously not happening. Marissa didn't know how, but, somewhere along the line, she had stepped into an alternative reality. Be it a dream, a nightmare, a drug induced haze, she didn't know, but she was sure that she would soon be able to roll over, open her eyes, and realize that the events occurring around her were nothing more than a figment of her imagination, that they weren't real.

After her doctor's appointment, she had aimlessly wandered around town, window shopping, browsing through baby stores, sitting in the park and watching the new, young mothers, mothers who were years sometimes decades younger than she was, play with their newborn babies, doing everything she could think of to avoid going home. She knew that she had to tell Ryan the truth, that they had to work out a way together to tell the children and eventually their friends, but she had not been ready to face him, so she avoided her home. By the time she felt strong enough to return, it was dark, and she knew her family would be worried about her if she didn't show up soon. After all, it was her birthday, and the kids would all undoubtedly stop by to see her and wish her many more happy years of life.

However, when she pulled up to her own house, the driveway had been blocked, filled to capacity, and even when both Garrett and Cooper were at home, there was always enough room for her to pull in her SUV as well. Besides, it wasn't just her driveway which was full of strange cars but the street as well. Up and down the road, there were tens of vehicles parked – small, sporty cars, the ones she knew belonged to the hot shot, single doctors she worked with at the hospital, large, multi-passenger minivans and SUVS capable of hauling around families and belonging to their friends who lived a similar lifestyle to the one she and Ryan shared together, and large, land boat sedans, expensive, luxurious cars that belonged to the senior hospital staff members and Ryan's former boss. Her wonderful, frustrating, supportive, unbelievably shortsighted, loving, clueless husband had thrown her a surprise birthday party, and, somehow, she was supposed to make it through the evening without breaking down for the world to see.

She was going to murder Patricia with her own stirrups the next time she saw her at the office for knowing and telling her.

Two hours later, her face so stiff and sore from the wide, fake smile she had been using all night as she made her way through the crowds of people in her backyard, people all there to help her celebrate her forty-fifth birthday, Marissa was standing in front of her beautifully decorated, elaborate cake, a hundred voices ringing out around her as they sang happy birthday, her family at her side, all them occasionally taking turns to hug her around the shoulders, kiss her cheek, or pat her back in a congratulatory manner as if her age was some great, remarkable accomplishment, she knew her façade was crumbling quickly, that she was not going to make it out of the surprise party without breaking down and making a grotesquely emotional scene. It was inevitable, and she just hoped that her family forgave her and someday understood why.

With the loud, boisterous song complete, she leaned down over the flaming cake, held her hair back, and made a wish – that she could rewind her life by two months and not sleep with her husband the night they conceived their fifth child, that everyone around her would disappear, and that she would be left alone, once again, to reflect upon her life and mentally prepare herself for the seven months ahead that she had to face, but, when she opened her eyes, everyone was still there, clapping for her, shouting their best wishes, and eagerly calling out for dibs on certain pieces of cake.

While Garrett and Cooper worked together to cut the dessert, why they had been designated as servers, she'd never know because the two man-children would lick their fingers between every slice, Loren handed her the present she and her brothers had pitched in together to get their Mom. The fifteen year old's smile was bright and excited, and Marissa knew the contents of the thin envelope in her hand was something amazingly special. She only hoped it wasn't the thing to give her the final push to make her crumble.

"Okay, so I know this is totally extravagant and super expensive, but we wanted you to have this. You and Dad always put us first," Loren stated, motioning between herself and her three siblings, "and, just this once, we wanted to do the same thing for you. Happy birthday, Mommy."

Marissa felt her little girl launch herself into her arms, and she hugged her back with every ounce of strength and affection she had in her. Both of them were crying when they stepped apart, and her daughter nearly broke her heart when she reached up to wipe her mother's tears before she dashed her own away. The tender embrace only made the nurse cry harder.

With misty eyes, she unsealed the envelope in her hands and read the small slip of paper inserted to describe the gift out loud. "It's time you saw an authentic English rose garden. You've loved the flowers for years, have grown your own, but there's nothing like the real thing. Bon Voyage, Mom and Dad." Although her mind knew what the note meant, her heart had still not accepted it, so she lifted out the two long, thin papers beneath the message, read what they said, and dropped the contents of the envelope onto the ground before she started to collapse herself.

"Ryan," Marissa heard Patricia's voice from far away yell for her husband, "do not let her fall!"

And he didn't. He was there behind her, catching her, cradling her in his arms as they slowly drifted down to sit on the grass together, her shaking, sobbing body protectively held in his arms. He was whispering words of comfort to her, laughing softly and teasing her about her theatrics. However, she could hear the note of concern in his voice, especially when Doctor Allen reached their side and started to take her pulse. The crowd around them became hushed, her children froze in place, concern written plainly across their youthful, fresh faces, but all Marissa could see were the two round trip tickets to London, England. She and Ryan had never been able to take a trip on their own, and they had always promised each other that the first place they would go when the kids were grown and out of the house was to see the famed English rose gardens. Now, years earlier than they had hoped and planned, their children had given them the opportunity to go, but it was impossible.

"I can't do it," the mother of four sobbed, burying her face between her husband's left shoulder and neck. "I can't go, and I want to so badly."

"Mom, of course you can go." It was Aristan, her handsome, sweet, compassionate baby boy, by her side, reassuring her and taking her hand in his to squeeze it gently. "Loren and I are teenagers now, and Garrett and Cooper are both going to stay at the house with us the week that you're gone, so nothing bad will happen. You and Dad deserve this."

"No," she yelled, pushing both her son and her husband away. Standing up on her own, she let her tears fall, ignoring them, but pushed her hair behind her ears. "You don't understand! None of you understand!" Frustrated, she stomped her feet and threw her arms out for emphasis. "I can't go! I can't do anything, because my body is no longer my own!" Twirling around so she could face Ryan, she screamed, "don't you get it? Don't you pay attention to me anymore? I'm emotional, my feet are sore, I have heartburn, and, now, I can't fly across the world and go on this amazingly wonderful vacation!"

Visibly, she could see her husband blanch as realization swept through him. He took one step towards her and, when she didn't back away, closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. "Oh my god," he whispered, holding her tightly.

Suddenly, the rest of the party disappeared, and it was just the two of them together. Hysterical and trembling violently in his arms, she confessed, "I'm pregnant; I'm pregnant." Over and over again, the words were repeated and fell from the nurse's lips, and, each time she uttered the two word phrase, her voice became softer and softer until her mouth was moving but no sound could escape except desperate hiccups as she tried to regain her control and level her breathing. The next thing Marissa knew she was in Ryan's arms, and he was carrying her inside the house, up the stairs, and into their bedroom, the party, their guests, and her birthday long forgotten. It was just the two of them, and that was exactly what she needed.

"Alright, so obviously we need to discuss this," Garrett, as the oldest of the four Atwood children, took control of the situation. "So, what are we going to play?"

Sports were not only something they enjoyed but something they needed to communicate and think clearly. They were the one thing all four children could agree upon, the one thing that could calm their tempers down, the one thing that could facilitate such an important conversation.

"Nothing too physical, because my ankle is still sore."

Teasing, Cooper joked, "I guess that rules out tackle football."

"Very funny, smartass," Loren returned, punching her brother in the shoulder. "What about Pig?"

Without saying a thing, Aristan moved into the garage, flipped on the outside light, and grabbed a basketball. Rejoining his siblings, he dribbled the ball and took the first shot, making it. "Youngest goes first," he announced belatedly. "Now, can we please quit bickering and get to what's really important – Mom's pregnancy."

Garrett spoke up, "well, since you seem to be such the eager beaver,…"

"Actually, no," Aristan interrupted him, passing the ball to his sister and letting her know it was her turn to try and make his same shot, "that would be Loren. Didn't you guys know that she's _seriously_ dating a senior?"

"Ugh, shut the hell up," the sibling in question returned, glaring at her younger brother. "What is it with all guys? As soon as they become a teenager, they all become annoying pervs."

"Actually," Cooper grinned, stealing the ball from her and making the shot to ensure that he didn't get a letter, "I was a perv way before I turned thirteen."

"Cooper, you're not helping matters here," Garrett chastised him, "Loren, take your shot so I can go and you better hope Dad doesn't find out about this boyfriend of yours, and, Aristan, since you're so willing to share how you feel about this baby with the rest of us, why don't you go first?"

"Sure, Mom's freaking out right now, but we all know how much she loves us, so she'll love this new baby just as much. Besides, you all know as well as I do that she's dreading the day when we're all out of the house. This kid will put off the inevitable empty nest syndrome you know she's going to suffer from. Plus," he added with a wide grin, "I'll no longer be the youngest, and that's a good thing in my book."

Loren made her shot and then started talking. "But this kid is also going to totally mess up our lives. You won't be able to play your guitar inside; you'll get relegated to the garage."

"Yeah," her younger brother rolled his eyes, "like that's such a big sacrifice."

"It'll also means that the budget will get tightened. Babies are expensive, so who knows what will happen with my gymnastics lessons."

Aristan persisted. "You're looking at this selfishly. It's not always about you; this is about Mom and Dad."

"Get off your moral high horse, Mama's boy," Cooper taunted his little brother. "It's only human to look at this selfishly. Hell, in my book this is great news. Hopefully the 'rents will pay more attention to this new kid and forget about my, and I quote, lack of direction. Plus, maybe we'll get another athlete in the family."

"Oh, please let it be another boy. I do not need a sister to compete with."

Startling all of them, Garrett tossed the ball aside, slamming it against the garage door. "What the hell is wrong with the three of you? Did you forget about the doctor's warnings, or do you not care about the fact that this baby could potentially kill our mother."

"There have been a lot of medical advances since then," Aristan pointed out. "Doctor Allen won't let anything happen to either Mom or the baby."

"You need to get your head out of the clouds, kid, and start thinking realistically."

"Garrett," Cooper moved to stand beside his sibling, "you need to calm down. Freaking out is not going to help anyone."

"And neither is thinking unrealistically positive," the architect returned, shoving his brother aside. "I don't care what the three of you say; this baby is not good news. I'm pissed that they let this happen, I'm pissed that Mom hasn't already taken care of it, and I'm pissed that my brothers and sister can't look past their own self-serving purposes. Do whatever the hell you want," he motioned towards their abandoned game of Pig, "but I'm out of here. Maybe the next time I come around, the three of you will have your heads pulled out of your asses." Storming off to his car, he swore the entire way, slamming his door shut before peeling out of the street and turning around quickly to head home.

After several moments of silence, Loren was the first to speak up. "Who wants to bet he's pissed off because he has to go home and face Miss Susie Q and tell her that his Mom is going to be seven months pregnant on their wedding day?"

Cooper laughed, but Aristan turned towards his siblings and looked at them imploringly, needing reassurance. "Is what he said true? Could Mom really die?"

"They'll perform a cesarean so that she won't be at risk," the twenty-four year old reassured the thirteen year old. "Don't worry about it, kid. Garrett just got his tighty-whities in a bunch. Everything will be okay."

They were sitting together in their dark bedroom, the windows open to allow the night breeze into the house, but, along with the fresh air, the wind also brought with it the words of their children and the sounds of their fear, making Marissa curl even deeper into her husband's embrace. He held her tightly, the two of them snuggled together into the chaise lounge.

"There's really only one option, isn't there?"

She hadn't expected him to be so sure, but she was thankful that he was and that he felt the same way she did. Lifting her head off his shoulder, a niche that seemed to be made for her head, she leveled her gaze with his and looked him in the eye. "I'm so glad you said that. Thank you."

"Of course you have to have an abortion," Ryan continued, running a soothing hand down her still damp face and missing her reaction to his words. "There's no way we can risk your health, risk losing you."

"No," she yelled, moving to climb off of his lap but he held her back. Glaring at him and still fighting his embrace, she asked, her voice climbing to levels of sheer panic and hurt, "how can you even suggest such a thing? This is our baby that I'm carrying, a baby we made together out of love!"

"That's why I want you to terminate the pregnancy," the father of her children argued, "because I love you. Marissa, when I married you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, not fifteen years. Does it hurt me to accept the fact that we're going to essentially be killing our baby? Of course it does, but it doesn't hurt me near as much as losing you would."

"I can't do it," she pleaded, begging him to understand. "Please, don't ask me to, Ryan. I already love this child," she explained, tenderly reaching down to caress the very slight bump starting to form on her abdomen. "I know it's selfish, that I should be happy with the four wonderful children that we already have, but this baby is a part of me. I can feel it growing; we're connected already, so aborting it would be like killing a part of myself, and I can't do that. I can't get rid of your child."

She was crying again, her still slender form quaking with panic and desperation. Her beautiful blue eyes spoke of fear and heartache, and her entire body was about to collapse due to sheer exhaustion.

"Okay," she finally heard her husband agree. "Okay," he repeated in a comforting voice. Taking her back into his arms, he leaned down onto the chaise and let her rest on top of him. "We'll keep the baby," he agreed. "You know that I can't stand to see you in pain, so I won't fight you anymore, but, Marissa, you have to promise me that you'll do everything, _everything_ the doctor tells you to, no exceptions."

"I promise," the mother of four replied quickly, clenching her shaking hands into the fabric of his dress shirt. Lifting her face, she leaned her forehead against his before speaking again. "I went and saw her today, and, before you say anything," she stopped him from interrupting her by placing a delicate finger against his open lips, "it was just something I had to do on my own. I needed to accept that I was really pregnant and have all the information before I told you." The nurse laughed quietly, closing her eyes and allowing her thick, rich lashes to brush against her husband's cheeks. "I'm sorry about how I told you though. That wasn't my plan."

"Well, I doubt you were expecting a surprise party to be thrown at you tonight either."

"I wasn't," she concurred, shrugging her shoulders. "And then, when I saw those tickets to England and realized we wouldn't be able to go, I was crushed…and I just…I fell apart."

"We will go to London together," Ryan assured her. "It might not be exactly how we planned, but we'll get there and soon, even if we have to take this baby with us." Placing his large, warm palm against her stomach, he quirked his lips into a sideways smile and asked, "so, what do you think, Mommy? Is it a boy or a girl this time?"

Instead of answering him, she changed the subject. "Patricia wants us to perform some tests on the baby to make sure that it doesn't have any birth defects or a chromosomal abnormality."

"Okay, that sounds like a good idea."

"But if it does," Marissa continued as if he hadn't said anything, "I still want to keep it."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he husband reassured her, kissing her softly. "I just think it'll be better if we're prepared for anything." She nodded, her head moving against his. "Now, let's talk about something a little happier, alright? After all, we're having a baby."

"We're having a baby," the soon-to-be mother of five agreed, finally smiling and feeling some excitement about her pregnancy. "You know when this child was conceived, don't you?"

"Oh, honey, do you honestly think I would forget that night?" Lowering his voice, he whispered into her ear, "you were… incredible."

That time Marissa actually laughed out loud. "You weren't so bad yourself."

Rearranging them so that she was sitting between his legs and leaning up against his chest, Ryan's hands settled, once again, on her slightly rounded abdomen. "If nothing else, we'll have fun torturing this little guy with stories of his conception."

"A boy, huh? I don't know. Your baby predicting skills have been dormant for quite a while. You just might be wrong this time."

She felt him shrug his shoulders, his way of telling her he didn't care if they had a boy or a girl, before replying, "we'll see."

And see they would in seven months if everything went according to plan. If.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The lights were dimmed to allow for the fireplace to be the main source of illumination in the room, the soft strains of Christmas music were playing in the background, and the entire Atwood family was gathered around in the living room of their cabin sharing hot chocolate and holiday memories on Christmas Eve. Outside, the wrath of Mother Nature raged, the snow and wind prevalent in the mountains making them feel even more snug and safe inside their rented retreat. They were away from the idyllic weather of their California home and spending the final week of the year tucked away in a Rocky Mountain abode as was their tradition, but, unlike holidays of the past, nothing was perfect. There was a cloud of unease hanging over them and a shadow of fear nipping at their heels. However, that did not mean they didn't pretend that nothing was wrong.

Marissa had successfully made it into her fifth month of pregnancy without further complications. The tests to screen for birth defects and chromosomal abnormalities had come back clean thus far, and, as far as Patricia could tell, the baby she was carrying was healthy. At that point, it had just become a waiting game, for nothing would be definite until she gave birth. The good news about her pregnancy had stopped there though. Unlike with her first four children, mourning sickness had attacked the nurse with a vengeance at the start of her second trimester. She was constantly sore, her back, legs, and feet giving her the most problems, and, because of her tendency for high blood pressure, she had already had to stop working and was on partial bed rest and not allowed to do hardly any manual labor.

Unlike years of the past, they had to drive to their winter vacation location instead of flying, and the road trip was not very pleasant with a constantly growing baby resting on her bladder. If asked though, Marissa would say that the worst aspect of her life during the past three months had been her future daughter-in-law. Not only was the wedding still occurring, but Susan seemed to be everywhere, invading her life and ruining all the small, family moments the soon-to-be mother of five enjoyed the most. In fact, she had even intruded into their trip, destroying any chance she may have had of having a peaceful, relaxing week away from home. So, forced to take matters into her own hands, Marissa simply pretended as if Garrett's fiancé didn't exist. She ignored her, refused to look at her, and spent as little of time with her as possible. During the day when everyone was busy with their own activities, it worked well; it was at night when the family gathered together as one that was proving to be more difficult.

"So, we were going to save this for tomorrow," the smiling, blonde fiend spoke up, interrupting the soft conversations flowing easily throughout the room, Loren and Cooper dominating most of them, but still Marissa who was snuggled into Ryan's arms, her head buried in his shoulder while he held her against him, refused to open her eyes and look at the young woman she had privately declared her mortal enemy, "but I can't keep it a secret any longer. I'm too excited, and good news should always be shared with the ones you love the most."

"There's a mirror in the bathroom," Loren quipped, earning a dark glare from her oldest brother and a smirk from her other two siblings, "have at it." The snarky comment made the nurse want to get up and hug her only daughter. Unfortunately though, Susan didn't take the advice and remained in the room. In fact, Marissa wasn't even sure if the other woman had understood what her future sister-in-law meant.

"This wasn't planned, but we couldn't be happier about it." Bringing her fiancé into the moment, the accountant asked, "could we, honey?"

Garrett's response wasn't as strong or as assured. "It's…great."

"Well, what it is," Ryan wondered, sensing his wife's desire for the discussion to be over and, in the process, making her love him even more. "Did you two elope or something?"

"Oh, of course not," Susan dismissed with a fake laugh. "How would that be good news?"

"Some people, myself included, don't get into big, expensive, fake weddings," Cooper explained. "Sometimes it's better to eliminate all the junk between saying your 'I do's' and catching your flight for the honeymoon."

"And you would know this how," Susan snapped. "Just how many times have you been married, Cooper?"

"I might not be married, but I've been to a few weddings, and, from what I've seen, the couples who make their nuptials all about the dress, and decorations, and the fondue fountains don't end up making it. It's the couples who concentrate on each other and their feelings that have the lasting, successful marriages."

"Besides," Aristan added, "with everything going on with Mom's pregnancy, it would probably be a relief for her to not have to deal with some grand affair. You know that the stress isn't good for her or the baby."

"It's also not your Mother's wedding; it's mine, and it was planned before she decided to get herself pregnant…again."

"That's enough, Susan," Garrett stopped her from saying anything else. "We're not supposed to be attacking each other. Remember, this is a good thing, so why don't you just tell everyone our news and put an end to their curiosity?"

"I wasn't the one who started it!"

"Please, Susie," the architect begged. "Don't do this now. Just…share your announcement."

"Our announcement," she corrected him petulantly.

Appeasing her, Garrett amended his statement, "our announcement."

Even without opening her eyes, Marissa felt a shift in the atmosphere. It suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe, as if the room was moving in around her and squeezing out the very air inside of her lungs. In that moment, she knew that whatever news her future daughter-in-law had to share, it wasn't going to be good.

"I'm pregnant," a jubilant Susan shouted. "We're having a baby!"

"You're kidding right," Loren questioned. The tone of her voice sounded flabbergasted. "I mean, we all knew that Garrett is a few knives short of a complete set – hello, he got involved with you – but, Christ, he's an architect for Pete's sake; he should know better than to procreate with the likes of you."

"Watch your mouth," Ryan chastised their daughter.

"That's it," their oldest son exploded, standing up and confronting his father. Knowing she couldn't hide any longer, Marissa lifted her head from her husband's shoulder and watched as her family fell apart in front of her very eyes. "That's all you're going to say to her? She's insulting me, my fiancé, and our unborn child."

"I recognize what she is saying, and, although I don't condone her rudeness, I can't disagree with her opinion. What the hell were you thinking, Garrett?"

"I think it was more along the lines of what the hell were you thinking with," Cooper added with a snicker. "Dude, do you realize that you got your fiancé in the family way at the same time that our Mom is carrying our little brother or sister?"

"I've heard real estate is pretty reasonable in West Virginia," Aristan added, earning himself a high-five from his older brother. "Perhaps we should move there. After all, we'd definitely fit in better there than we will at home."

"What is wrong with you," the architect wanted to know. "This is not my family. My family is supportive and loving, not hateful and selfish."

"We're the selfish ones," Marissa heard her thirteen year old son ask. "I don't think so. We're the ones trying to make sure that Mom's pregnancy is as stress free as possible, while you're the one who is just continually adding to her ever-growing level of tension and constant worry."

"This bickering is not getting us anywhere. Garrett," Ryan looked their oldest child in the eye, "can I please speak to you in private?" He motioned towards the small kitchenette before addressing everyone else. "I'm going to help your Mother into our room, and, until I get back, I don't want anyone saying anything else to each other." As he helped her stand up, he looked pointedly at Loren. "Is that clear?" Between nods and disgusted eye rolls, agreements were begrudgingly given, but they were not out of the room before the spiteful comments started once again.

"You know," Marissa heard her daughter proclaim in a secretive, mockingly generous and concerned voice, "it's not too late to fix this little problem."

"Excuse me," Susan questioned.

"You're not showing yet, so I assume that you're only a month or two along, leaving you plenty of time to…take care of this mess."

"Are you actually advising me to get rid of my baby," the accountant asked, infuriated. "Don't you realize that you're practically promoting the idea of killing your own niece or nephew?"

"I'd rather lose a niece or a nephew than my Mom or a brother or a sister!"

"Loren, that's enough," the nurse finally spoke up, yelling at her daughter. "No one is going to die. Why don't you just…come into my room with me? I want to talk to you for a moment." Without argument or protest, her daughter did what she was told, stood up, and moved to her Mother's side, helping her into the master bedroom. "Go, go talk to Garrett," Marissa urged her husband, letting go of his arm and waiting for him to leave before shutting the door behind her. After motioning for Loren to remain silent, she paused and stood still for several seconds before pulling the door open an inch so she and her only daughter could listen into Ryan and Garrett's conversation.

"It wasn't as if I was expecting a congratulatory cigar or for Mom and Susan to bond over the fact that they're both pregnant, but I sure as hell thought my family would be more supportive than this."

"Look, Son, it's not as if we didn't want you to become a father someday; it's that you could have waited a little bit and picked a better time. I mean, you're not even married yet, you're still young, you're career is just starting to pick up. Is this really the best time for you to be having a baby?"

"You've never been a hypocrite before, don't start now," Garrett threatened. "Mom had two kids before the age of twenty-six, and you knocked her up with Loren while she was still married to Gerry."

"Knocked her up," the soon-to-be father of five repeated his oldest child's words. "Is that what you really think of your Mother, of our relationship?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Ryan argued, "because I was in love with her, and she was in love with me. Did we get together under the best of circumstances, no, but I've never regretted a single moment that I've spent with your Mom. Does it bother you that we weren't married when Loren was conceived?"

"Of course not," the young architect reassured his father, "but, at the same time, you can't reprimand me for doing the same thing."

"Your situation with Susan is entirely different than mine was with your Mom."

"I agree," Garrett stated, his voice losing some of its harshness, "but it doesn't change the fact that what's done is done. I am going to be a father, Susan and I are getting married, and you and Mom are going to be grandparents."

Ryan sighed. "Weren't the two of you using birth control? I know that you never would have purposely planned to have a child right now."

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Again, we're talking about totally different situations," the business owner reasoned. "Your Mom and I have been married for fifteen years, our relationship is stable. Plus," he added, "we didn't think it was possible for us to have any more children at this point, so, in our minds, there wasn't a need for birth control anymore. Us getting pregnant was a fluke, but can you say the same?"

"Honestly," the twenty-six year old questioned rhetorically. "I don't know. I thought Susie was taking birth control pills, but they're normally pretty effective."

"98," Ryan offered up the statistic.

"But, at the same time, I know that she was jealous of the fact that Mom was pregnant, that she would be seven months pregnant at our wedding, and I think she was afraid Mom would steal her spotlight."

"Are you saying that you think your fiancé purposely got herself pregnant to upstage your Mother?"

"I don't know," Garrett answered, sounding exasperated, "and it really doesn't matter at this point. All I know is that I'm going to be a father, and I can't apologize for that. As for Susan, I know that's she's spoiled and selfish and stuck up, but, when we're alone at our apartment, away from everyone else, I see a different side of her, and that's the Susie I love."

"No one can tell you how to feel or who to love," Marissa listened as her husband reasoned with her son, "so, after tonight, we'll drop this subject, but I'm really disappointed in you, Garrett."

"What? Why?"

"Your fiancé is only a month of two along in her pregnancy, while your Mom is five months along. Do you realize that she could still very easily lose this baby, and I don't even want to think about what that would do to her physically or emotionally? If you had been thinking about anyone but yourself, you would have realized sharing this news only benefits you and Susan, and you would have waited until your Mom was far enough long that the stress this announcement is going to add to her pregnancy wouldn't jeopardize her or the baby as much. Two more months, Garrett, two more months is all I would have asked for. Hell, you could have come to me or gone to Patricia to ask for our advice, but you put your fiancé ahead of the rest of your family, and, because of that, I'm disappointed in you. If anything happens to your Mom or to this baby, I'm not sure how I'll be able to forgive you. Now, go and get Susan from the living room, take her upstairs to your room, and get her away from your siblings before they say or do something they can't take back."

"I think it's a little too late for that. They've already crossed the line, especially Loren."

"What can I say," Ryan asked, shrugging his shoulder in an indifferent manner. "They love their Mom."

"And what," Garrett challenged, "I don't?"

"No, I know that you love your Mother," the soon-to-be father of five reassured him. "What I don't know is if you respect her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and make sure my wife is feeling alright. I'll see you in the morning."

Marissa shut the door and quickly made her way towards the king sized bed Loren already had turned down and waiting for her. Five months into a pregnancy she had not planned, she realized the surprise child was risking more than her own future; it was also risking the future of her family, and that was one thing she refused to let suffer or be damaged. It was time for her to swallow her pride, to put aside her feelings of disdain and loathing, and to make peace with her future daughter-in-law. Well, at least pretend to make peace. It was a task that would be easier said than done but one that she was determined to achieve nonetheless.

It was Christmas morning, and Marissa had a plan.

"I want you to take all the kids out skiing this afternoon and leave Susan here with me."

Having already opened presents and ate breakfast, they were lounging together in the bathtub while the kids took an early nap to prepare for the day ahead of them after waking up so early. It was the closest she had felt to being relaxed since her oldest son and his fiancé had dropped their bombshell on them the night before.

Ryan chuckled. "No matter how much you want to, I can't let you kill her, Honey, even if you do it cleanly and not leave any evidence behind."

"Why, because it'll hurt Garrett?"

"No," her husband corrected her, teasing, "because you're not allowed to perform any manual labor. I can't have you risking your health or the baby's to get rid of a nuisance, so I don't think it's a good idea to leave the two of you alone."

She twisted around in his arms and smiled wickedly. "I promise to be good."

"How good?"

"I'll remain in bed the entire time, I won't raise my voice, and not a single hair will be harmed on her precious, overly processed head," the nurse promised. "I'd say that's pretty much as good as gold."

He looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure you can pull that off?"

"Contrary to recent evidence, I do have some self control, and, if nothing else, that baby she is carrying is one half of my son." Sobering quickly, she regarded him with a straight and sincere face. "I'd never do anything to hurt Garrett or bring harm to his child. I might not have wanted to be a grandmother at the age of forty-five, but I can't do anything about it now."

"That's quite the mature way of looking at it."

"Well, that's me," Marissa joked, feigning innocence, "the paragon of wisdom and sensibility."

"Alright then, so if this little powwow between the two of you is not going to be hostile, what exactly do you want to talk to Susan about," the business owner questioned, eyeing his wife closely. It was evident by his expression that he doubted her new sense of serenity.

"I plan to make peace with her," the soon-to-be mother of five answered. "If nothing else has been made clear by the announcement of this pregnancy, it's the fact that she's not going anywhere, no matter how much I might wish her to. Susan Eleanor Thompson is now a fixture of our lives. Even if her relationship does not work out with Garrett, she'll always be the mother of his child, so she'll always be here, a thorn in my side. The sooner I make peace with her, the sooner we'll be able to move on with our lives. I have to do this for the kids, especially Garrett and this new baby. I don't know how much more stress I can handle, and seeing you and our oldest child fighting is not helping me take it easy at all."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Hey, you don't need to apologize," she assured him. "I understand why you are upset, and it makes me love you even more, but, just as you want to protect me, I have to protect you. I know that fighting with Garrett is eating you up inside, so, because I love you, I'm going to fix this for everyone, even if that means burying the hatchet with Susan somewhere other than in her back."

She felt him stir behind her as he wrapped his arms around her swollen belly, holding her tighter, and placed several sweet, adoring kisses upon her wet, bubble bath splattered shoulders. "Can I ask how exactly you plan on accomplishing this reconciliation?"

"By offering her advice, both on marriage and motherhood."

That made Ryan laugh for a second time. "Good luck. I can't see Miss Susie taking anyone's advice, especially yours."

"Hey, Bub," she poked her husband playfully, "I can be very persuasive when I want to be."

"You don't need to convince me. I've been on the receiving end of some of those persuasive moments. I just think that she's going to be a tougher nut to crack."

Marissa rolled her eyes. "Nut being the operative word there."

"No more talking," he suddenly directed. Gently easing her head down to rest against his chest, Ryan ran his hands over her abdomen, soothing her, easing her tension, and comforting her. It was exactly what she needed before facing the firing squad otherwise known as her future daughter-in-law that afternoon. She knew that she could put it off, save their discussion for another day and simply enjoy Christmas, but the sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could go back to ignoring the younger woman and focusing on her family. Besides, her fifteenth wedding anniversary was approaching in a few days' time, and Marissa was determined to make the most of it. After all, next year, she would have an eight month old baby to take care of, and bottles, diapers, and spit up did not lend itself well to romance. While she could still get what she wanted, she figured she might as well take advantage of her husband and his still attractive body. Plus, it wasn't as if he would be complaining, but, first, she had to deal with Susan. Work first, play later.

"Alright, let's have it," Susan urged her. "Yell at me, ridicule me, insult my child; say whatever it is you have to say to get your anger off your chest, but know that I will not be fighting with you. Garrett's asked me not to, so, no matter what you say, I'm not going to stoop to your level."

"I didn't ask you to stay here so I could yell at you. First of all, there was no way I was letting you go skiing when you're carrying my son's child. That's just asking for trouble," Marissa proclaimed. "However, secondly, I also asked you to stay here so that we could talk and somehow find a way to put aside our differences. We're never going to be best friends, but we do need to find a way to co-exist."

"I don't know why you have a problem with me. What have I ever done to you?"

"Do you want honesty," the nurse asked pointedly. The younger woman nodded her head yes. "It doesn't matter who Garrett dated and eventually married, I'd never approve of her. It might seem irrational, but that doesn't change the way I feel. By you marrying my son, you're essentially taking him away from me, and no mother is ever ready to part with their first born. Plus, let's face it, you and I," she motioned between them, "we have nothing in common. I like gardening and going to my kids' sporting events; you like shopping and going to clubs."

"Are you saying that my interests are shallow?"

"I never said anything of the kind, Susan," the soon-to-be mother of five stated. "That's your own insecurities coming through. As far as I'm concerned, you can be interested in whatever you want. The point is that we're too different to see eye to eye, but, for my son's sake, we can learn to respect each other.

The accountant watched her warily. "Just how exactly do you propose that we do that?"

"We're going to have to make some compromises, we're going to have to try and find the good in one another, and we're going to have to somehow find a way to make peace." When the younger woman still didn't say anything else, Marissa continued. "I'll make the first gesture. I'd like to offer you some advice."

"What, words of wisdom that are said sweetly but delivered with malice and wishes for ill will?"

Taking several deep breaths, the forty-five year old tried to calm down before speaking again. "You have every right to doubt my intentions, but you need to understand that I will never intentionally hurt my son or my grandchild. Before you announced that you were pregnant, I frankly thought that you were a passing phase in Garrett's life, that he would put up with your demands and your selfish behavior for a few months and then realize that you're not the woman he's meant to spend the rest of his life with."

"And now?"

"Even if he wakes up tomorrow and realizes these very things, he'll never leave you. You've made sure of that."

"Are you accusing me of trapping him," Susan inquired crossly.

"It doesn't matter," the nurse replied, shrugging her shoulders. "The how and why you're pregnant no longer matter, because they won't change the fact that you're carrying my son's baby inside of you, and, even if your relationship with Garrett doesn't work out, you'll still be a part of his life. For that reason and that reason alone, you and I are going to come to some sort of agreement this afternoon."

The older woman watched as her future daughter-in-law quirked her right eyebrow in silent defiance. "And what if I refuse?"

"That's always an option," Marissa concurred. "However, imagine Garrett's reaction when he returns to the cabin later this evening and finds his bed ridden, pregnant mother in tears because his fiancé wouldn't accept her gesture of peace. I doubt he'd appreciate that very much, and don't even get me started on how Ryan, Cooper, Loren, and Aristan would react. You'd be one very unpopular woman around here. Well, even more unpopular."

"That's blackmail."

"Oh, good, you're not as dense as I thought you were. Of course it's blackmail," the wife and mother snapped, unable to restrain her annoyance for another moment. "Like I've always said, I will do anything for my children, and, trust me, I will not lose any sleep over blackmailing you."

Throwing her hands up in frustration, Susan gave in. "Alright, fine, you win. We'll pretend to make nice. Now, tell me this advice already so I can go back to my room and be alone."

"First, as a wife, you're going to have to find a balance. Because you're already pregnant, you and Garrett are not going to be able to adjust to married life for very long before the baby comes, so, for a while, you're relationship is probably going to be strained and very complicated. It's acceptable to put your child first; in fact, it's preferable. Husbands are already grown, they've already been coddled by their own mothers, so they don't need you to coddle them some more. However, they have very delicate egos that must be treated with kid gloves. Find ways to always let Garrett know that you love him, and I'm not talking about sex. Sometimes you're just not going to be in the mood, and he'll learn to understand that and take care of himself. What I mean is that there are special, little things you can do to make him feel appreciated in your relationship: surprise him with his favorite take out for lunch, have the game on and a cold beer waiting for him when he comes home from a long day's work, leave him sexy, dirty messages on his cell phone after a particularly romantic night. It's different with every couple, so you're just going to have to figure out what works for the two of you."

The accountant observed her closely, the shock she was feeling written plainly across her carefully made up face. "You're actually serious about this, aren't you? You're really giving me advice?"

"Don't get emotional on me," Marissa warned. "This is not for you. I'm doing this for Garrett and for my family, because I refuse to let you come between us."

"But, nevertheless, what you're telling me is going to be helpful. What else are you willing to share?"

"Don't do what I did with Garrett and Cooper and have your children too close together. Spread out your pregnancies, give your body enough time to properly heal and recuperate, and appreciate your first child for a few years before you decide to have another one. You're young enough that waiting three or four years between babies won't hurt you," the nurse advised.

"That makes sense," Susan agreed. "Do you have anything else of value to tell me?"

"I can tell you how to better get along with your mother-in-law," the soon-to-be mother of five stated without blinking her eyes or showing any emotion. Her son's fiancé simply smirked while she waited for the words of wisdom. "Don't do anything to hurt her son or her grandchild. Love them to the best of your ability, but be prepared to payback if you ever do cause them any harm." Becoming more direct, Marissa warned, "if you do anything to upset the people I love, I will crush you, and that's not a warning; that's a promise."

Standing up, the younger woman made her way towards the door. "I never doubted it for a second, Mrs. Atwood."

"That's much better," the nurse approved. "Please, don't ever again call me Mom. Perhaps, once you and Garrett are married, I'll be able to accept you calling me Marissa, but I'm the only one who can make that decision. Oh, and one more thing," she stopped her future daughter-in-law from leaving the room, "if I were you, I'd seriously consider natural birth. In all honestly, you really don't feel that much pain when you're in labor. You're so focused upon the life you're bringing into this world, that anything else just seems trivial. The only thing an epidural will do is make the day fuzzy; you'll have a hard time remembering it later, and the birth of your first child is something you'll always want to remember."

"I'll keep it in mind and consider your advice." With that, Susan left the room, missing the satisfied snicker on Marissa's face.

She never proclaimed herself to be perfect, and, after all the generous and altruistic guidance she had given the she-devil, she was due a little reward. Imagining the younger woman in excruciating pain while she gave birth to her grandchild was enough of a reward to get Marissa through the next few months, and surely no one would be begrudge her that.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Although this chapter may seem inconsequential, there are some important situations and personal connections set up in this post. I'll just have to wait and see who picks up on the clues I've provided here for you. Also, while this chapter may seem overly tame and fun, don't worry; there will be plenty of drama ahead. Thanks for reading and enjoy!_

Charlynn

Chapter Five

"I look like a giant, eighty year old piece of cotton candy!"

In the aisle reserved for the Groom's family, they were sitting alone together since all four of their children were in the wedding party and none of their estranged relatives had been invited. For Marissa, the entire event was maddening. Not only did she look and feel miserable, but she was also sick and tired of caring whether or not the other guests could tell just how unhappy she was. After all, she didn't want Garrett to marry Susan, and, at seven months pregnant, the soon to be mother of five had absolutely no interest in hiding her displeasure. The only thing she regretted was putting her poor husband through the ups and downs of her erratic hormones.

"Look at those bridesmaid dresses," she ordered him, gesturing towards the first of seven women to parade down the aisle as they made their way to the sanctuary. "She puts the young, fit girls in tea length, black gowns with empire waists accentuated with soft pink detailing. I would actually look good in that, but, no, not Susan, she doesn't consider the fact that her future mother-in-law is a bloated, escaped circus freak. Instead of something slimming and flattering, she puts me in this hideous pink suit designed for women too senile to realize what the hell they're wearing. And the worst part is," the nurse continued despite her husband's oblivious expression, "it has sequin detailing! Liberace called; he wants his clothes back!"

"So it's not the outfit you would have picked for yourself," Ryan conceded. "I get that, but you're missing three very important points. First of all, despite the suit, I think you look beautiful…radiant even, and, if nothing else, cotton candy is pretty sweet. I, for one, would like a taste."

"I love you, I really do," Marissa told him with all the patience she could muster, "and, yes, during the previous _decade_ when I was pregnant, we had sex practically all the way up until my due date, but that's not happening this time. I'm not nearly as flexible, I don't feel like I'm glowing and all that other bullshit they say about pregnant women, and I think I'm starting to get arthritis, so these legs are closed for probably a good four to six months."

"I get it," he whispered back to her, lowering his voice to a whisper as other guests sitting behind them were starting to glare in their direction. "But, back to what I was saying, no matter how badly you think you look in that outfit, Susan's Mom looks worse."

"That's just because her face always looks like she's sucking on a giant crybaby."

"And, finally, did you ever think that maybe our future daughter-in-law picked this suit out for you on purpose, knowing that you wouldn't like it?"

Realization dawned on her face as soon as the words left his mouth. "That little skank! I bet you're right; she would do something like that. She's even more devious than I thought she was."

Ryan chuckled, earning a disapproving look from his wife. "Remind you of anyone?"

"That's not funny," Marissa snapped. "Do not even consider comparing me with that society slut, because, if you do, you will not like the consequences."

"Alright, fine, we'll drop the subject," the business owner agreed. Taking her right hand in his, he squeezed it before focusing upon the front of the church where the minister was starting to speak. When she also dropped the topic, he took a sigh of relief and settled down into the pew to watch their oldest son get married. However, Marissa was quiet for long.

"I bet that's the same reason why she insisted that I wear heels, too." Without realizing what she was doing, the nurse dug her nails into her husband's hand to ward off her impending anger. "I told her that I never wear heels because of how tall I am. Plus, I even went so far as to ask her if I could wear flats because of my pregnancy, but she refused, claiming the shoes were already ordered and paid for. Ugh," she moaned, narrowing her gaze towards Susan where she stood before them. "If she wasn't carrying my only grandchild inside of her right now, I'd go up there and rip out all those fake, platinum blonde extensions she's wearing."

"Would you stop," Ryan checked over his shoulders to make sure that the guests behind them were not listening to their conversation before continuing, "talking about the pregnancy. They haven't told her family about it yet."

The wife and mother merely rolled her eyes. "Would you look at her," she nodded her head towards the bride. "She's already pushing four months, and you cannot even tell that she's pregnant. It makes me sick!"

"Maybe she's wearing something," he suggested, whispering into her ear and trying to make it seem as if they were exchanging admiring comments about the nuptials, "you know, something that hides bulges or smoothes things out…there."

"A corset?"

"Uh…sure," the business owner agreed, not quite sure what she was talking about.

"Well, I'll tell you this much, she better not be wearing a corset. That's not healthy for the baby, and I warned her about what I would do if she did anything to hurt my son or my grandchild."

"Marissa," he chastised her, "do not mention that word!"

"Oh, please," she dismissed his concerns, "everyone within hearing distance of us are here for Garrett, and they're not going to ruin the Princess' rep with her parents." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and tapping her feet impatiently. "Speaking of which," the nurse continued seconds later just when her husband thought she had exhausted all her complaints against Garrett's soon-to-be wife, "I can't believe that her parents can't tell that she has a bun in the oven. How oblivious are they?"

"But you just said that you can't tell by looking at her."

"Not to the causal observer, but they're her parents," she emphasized. "They should know these things, have a sixth sense about them. For instance, when Loren's pregnant with her first child,…"

"I'll be dead by then or it won't be happening." Although she rolled her eyes, Marissa said nothing to scare the father of her children any more. "Now, can we save the rest of our anti-Susan discussion until after the ceremony? Besides, I thought the two of you made peace with each other."

"Ryan, I might have agreed to a truce to her face, but I never agreed to not hate her behind her back, and expecting me to is just unreasonable."

"Alright, fine, you can dislike her all you want when she's not within hearing distance, but, for now, for me and for our son, can you please just watch the two of them say their vows? You need to pay attention," he urged her, "because Garrett might ask you what your favorite part of the ceremony was."

She smiled broadly, and there was a wicked gleam in her deep, blue eyes. "I liked the part where someone stood up and objected to the wedding."

Cocking his head to the side, the business owner regarded her, confusion marring his face. "But that didn't happen."

"I know," Marissa sighed, "but wouldn't it be wonderful if it…" Interrupting her train of thought, a cell phone started ringing. The sudden intrusion upon the almost silent church stopped the priest in the middle of his prayer and made the guests gasp, mutter, and fidget in surprise. "No wait," she amended her previous statement. "That was my favorite part of the ceremony."

"Why is Cooper's phone on?"

"He was expecting an important call," the pregnant mother of four explained to her husband. With a mischievous smirk on her face, she continued, "I told him it would be alright…just this once."

"Like I said, does Susan's spiteful and underhanded behavior remind you of anyone else's?"

She merely shrugged her shoulders, neither agreeing with or denying the soon-to-be father of five's claims. As they sat together, finally silent and hands still clasped together, they watched as their second oldest child answered his phone and talked on it briefly while the rest of the wedding party, particularly the bride, observed Cooper's actions in disbelief. Although the call only lasted a few seconds, the mood of the nuptials had been ruined, and the ceremony never found its rhythm again. Two people were beyond caring though: Cooper, because his call had been such good news, and Marissa, because it was just the start of the payback Susan deserved for making her wear an outfit a disco diva would be jealous of. One thing was certain though, it was going to be an interesting reception.

"This party is lame."

Four of the Atwood family members, Ryan, Marissa, Cooper, and Loren, were sitting around a table together at the reception. The meal had been served, dancing had begun, and everyone was waiting for the bride and groom to cut the cake. Unfortunately, in the lull of entertainment, that left certain anti-wedding guests rather bored. While Marissa sat with her shoes off and feet up on Ryan's lap so he could give her tired soles a massage, Cooper was leaned back so far on his chair, the slightest movement could cause him tumble over backwards, and Loren, with drooped, heavy lids, was resting her weary head on a fisted hand.

"It does suck," their second oldest child agreed with his sister. "Garrett refuses to go outside and play touch football with us, there's no TV in sight, so I can't check the scores, and Bagel's not here. He would have really loved this party."

Her husband chuckled, his way of agreeing with their son. "He would have gone crazy when they released those doves. How much do you want to bet he wouldn't have given up until he caught at least one?"

"Oh, man, that would have been awesome," Cooper agreed, reaching across the table to give his Dad a high-five. "Garrett's warden would have had a fit!"

Marissa quickly snapped her closed eyes open for a moment and shared a secretive glance with Loren. "Well, despite Bagel not being her physically, perhaps, we'll be able to feel his presence some other way."

"Mom, did you drink your bottle of bubbles instead of blowing it on the happy couple, because, even for you, you've been acting kind of strange today."

"It's just her hormones," Ryan dismissed their son's worry, only to earn himself a jab in the stomach with his wife's foot.

"No, not this time, I don't think so," Cooper continued to argue. "She's up to something, and," he moved his glance from his mother to his younger sister, "Loren knows what it is."

"Really, it's nothing," the soon-to-be mother of five defended herself. "And leave your sister out of this. I take full responsibility."

"Hey, that's not fair, Mom," the fifteen year old yelled, balling up her napkin to toss in her parents' direction. "I helped, and I want credit for it."

Gently placing Marissa's feet back on the ground, the business owner turned in his chair and glared at both his wife and his daughter. "What did the two of you do? I want to know now."

"We just…customized the groom's cake."

"Loren," Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "there wasn't supposed to be a groom's cake. Susan didn't want one."

"Well, is she the groom," their daughter retorted back sharply, quickly looking apologetic when her father's clear blue eyes became stormy with disappointment and frustration. "Look," she smiled sweetly in an attempt to appease him, "like Mom was saying, it's not that big of a deal."

"That still doesn't tell me what you did."

"We ordered a groom's cake for Garrett, and it looks just like Bagel," Marissa answered her husband. "It's a surprise."

The father of her children asked, "are you purposely trying to annoy Susan so she'll set off World War III?"

"Don't start questioning my motives where my children are concerned right now, Ryan," she warned him. "I saw how disappointed our son was because Bagel couldn't be in this wedding, so I wanted to make up for it even if just by a little bit. Now," she conceded, "if my actions do happen to anger the she-devil, then that is just a bonus."

The businessman sighed, rolled his eyes, and bent to pick his wife's feet back up. "Just…don't gloat too much, okay?" Marissa nodded, so he turned to look pointedly at their daughter. "That goes for you, too."

"Of course, Daddy," she grinned cheekily. "I don't even know how to gloat."

Cooper chuckled. "You are so full of shit."

"So what," Loren returned. "At least I know how to get away with it. You get in trouble for all your stunts."

"That's because he's twenty-four and an adult and should know better than to be pulling stunts," Ryan commented, challenging their son with a raised eyebrow to contradict his statement. "Now, I want to hear more about this phone call you just had to take during the ceremony. Your Mom said it was important, but she never did get around to telling me exactly what it was about."

"Do you remember those tryouts I went to during the week of Aristan's birthday," their second oldest child asked. "Well, they called today to tell me whether or not I made the team."

"And," his sister prompted him. When Cooper still didn't respond, she pushed. "Come on, don't leave us in suspense. Did you make the team?"

"You're looking at Canada's newest minor league baseball player," he grinned, eventually laughing out loud when Loren leapt up from her chair and started jumping up and down.

"Congratulations," her husband extended his hand out to shake their son's. "Your Mom and I, we don't tell you this enough, but we're proud of you, even if you still don't really have much direction in your life."

The two men shared an understanding nod before all four eyes seemed to turn and look at Marissa. She was attempting to smile but failing miserably as her fast flowing tears kept tickling the corners of her mouth and making them turn down. "I'm sorry," she immediately apologized, reaching out to lay a warm, soft palm against her second child's cheek. "I didn't want to do this, but I can't help it. Although I'm excited for you, you're leaving me, and it's not as if you're going to be living in the next town over or even the next state. You're moving to a whole other country!"

"I'll be home all the time, Mom," Cooper reassured her. "In fact, I'll probably be back at least once every couple of weeks just so you can do my laundry."

"That's not funny," the nurse glowered at him, picking up her napkin to wipe away her tears. "And you know that's not what I meant."

"Look, I know it feels like you're losing all of us right now, because Garrett just got married and I'm moving away, but in two months you're going to be so busy with the new baby, you'll practically forget that you had two older sons. We'll be distant memories, mere blips on your radar."

"Still not laughing," she sniffled, hiding behind her hands so the other guests couldn't see her crying.

"Alright, come on," Ryan urged her, placing her feet for the second time on the ground, standing up, and holding out his hand. "Let's go."

Confused, Marissa looked up into his face with unshed tears still glittering in her long, black lashes. "What? Where?"

"Dancing."

A smile immediately lit up her face. "Do you mean it? But I thought you hated dancing, and what happened to your rule that I wasn't allowed on my feet this afternoon for more than five minutes at a time?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I think you deserve to do something special right now. So," he bargained, "I'll dance with you for as long as you want if you promise to stop crying, forget about the wedding and Cooper's good news, and focus on what makes you happy."

"You make me happy," she whispered into his ear as he pulled her into his arms and they started swaying. For several moments they were both quiet as they simply enjoyed being with each other, and the rest of the world slowly started to fade away. All of a sudden, Marissa spoke up again, "and annoying Susan makes me happy, too."

"Now there's the wife I know and love," Ryan chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Before she could reply, he pulled back far enough to kiss her softly.

"You do know that this is how we ended up in this mess in the first place," she commented, still kissing him between words. "You, me, a party, dancing, kissing, it all led to us making this baby. I guess it's a good thing I'm already pregnant, because, if not, who knows what might have happened tonight."

His only response was to laugh once more and tighten their embrace, and, before she knew what was happening, she had, for the first time that afternoon, finally relaxed.

Ryan and Marissa were still dancing together two hours later…well if you could count swaying in place and holding each other tightly as dancing…when the dj announced that the bride was getting ready to throw the bouquet and that all single women should proceed to the middle of the dance floor.

"That means this is almost over, right," Ryan asked, a glimmer of hope making his baby blues sparkle.

"Yes," she laughed, leaning in to kiss him yet again. "It means it's almost over." Knowing he would want to know just how much longer they would have to be there, she continued. "She'll toss her bouquet, then Garrett will throw the garter, the dj will announce them as a married couple one last time, and then they'll leave for their honeymoon."

"Which means that we get to go home?"

"It does," the nurse admitted, leading her husband off the dance floor and back to their table where he surprised her by pulling her into his lap. With his arms wrapped securely around her and his head tucked into her shoulder, she asked, "and just why exactly are you so eager to go home?"

Grumbling, the father of her children replied, "I cannot wait to get out of this ridiculous suit." She felt him shift behind her as he reached up to, once again, pull against his tie. "We might have a celebration ourselves later this evening to burn our wedding attire."

"That sounds wonderful," Marissa sighed in agreement. "And neither of us have to work tomorrow, so we can put our pajamas on tonight when we get home and stay in them until Monday morning. I love being lazy."

"And I love the pajamas that you wear when you're pregnant," he teased her, his voice dropping an octave. Despite her earlier absolute refusal on making love, the wife and mother had to admit that the raspy, low quality of his tone made butterflies of anticipation and need swirl low in her abdomen. Unfortunately, that same abdomen was swollen with seven months of pregnancy. "Because you're always uncomfortably warm, you wear the skimpiest things to bed at night, and, even though I'm not allowed to touch anymore, I still enjoy looking."

"Well," she admitted, dropping her voice as well and whispering, "perhaps, the rules could be bent a little bit. We might not be able to actually have sex right now, but, if you manage to keep me in this good of a mood until we're alone in our room tonight, then we might be able to…play around."

"I'll do anything you want," Ryan promised, making her laugh. "You can chuck your shoes as Susan when she's leaving the reception hall, you can sneak home the rest of the wedding cake to eat in bed, you can have sole rights to naming the baby, you can…," his voice trailed off as he became distracted. "What the hell is Loren doing on the dance floor right now? The dj called for all single women, not little girls."

"She's fifteen; she's not a little girl anymore, and, traditionally, as long as the person isn't married, they're supposed to try and catch the bouquet."

"But we don't even allow her to date yet," the businessman squealed in protest, sounding anything but reasonable and understanding.

"Yes," Marissa corrected him, "we do allow her to date. Ryan, she went to homecoming last fall. You don't think that was date?"

"It was chaperoned," he argued, remaining obstinate and inflexible.

Despite her best efforts, she could not hold back her laughter. "Oh, come on, you know as well as I do what happens at school dances, chaperoned or not. We were both in high school once, and, if I know you at all, and I do, I bet you were one of those boys fathers of teenage girls feared the most."

"You are not making me feel any better about this," he complained. Feeling him move to lift her from his lap, she refused to let him. "Come on, Marissa, you have to let me up; I have to stop her."

"You will do no such thing. Loren does not need you embarrassing her at her brother's wedding. Just let her be," the nurse pleaded with him. "There are probably fifty women out there, and many of them are quite eager to catch the bouquet. The chances of our daughter coming out of the melee with the flowers in hand are slim to none, and, even if she does," she continued to soothe him, "it means absolutely nothing. It's just a silly tradition."

From behind her, she could feel him take a deep breath and hold it in while he watched the bride's bouquet arch through the air, get tossed around by the eager women who were starting to become desperate in their quest for marriage and a family, and finally settle in the hands of one of Susan's college friends, eradicating his fears that his only little girl would find herself on the receiving end of the tradition that said whoever caught the flowers would be the next to marry. Reassured his daughter would remain single for the foreseeable future, Ryan relaxed, exhaled, and settled down to watch Garrett pull the garter off his wife's leg and toss it in the air towards the eligible bachelors who were much less enthusiastic than the women had been.

"Where's Cooper," he asked, noticing that their second oldest son was not in the room.

"He's conveniently outside preparing the limo that's going to take Garrett and Susan to their hotel for the night," Marissa answered, giggling to herself. "After all, you know how serious he takes his best man duties."

"Oh, yes, how could I forget," her husband joined in on her laughter. "If nothing else today convinced me of his dedication to his brother, it had to be his toast where he thanked Susan for marrying Garrett, because, since his older brother was no longer a part of the dating scene, it left more women out there for him to meet and take home for one night stands. Classy."

"At least he has no ambition to get married. I don't think my sanity would be able to handle another wedding any time soon. We need a break, a nice, long, peaceful break where the words fondue fountains never come up in conversation."

"So then we're agreed that Cooper is going to be a perpetual bachelor," Ryan stated, "and, of course, Loren will not be allowed to get married, so that leaves Aristan. What do you think he'll want?"

"Honestly," she answered, "I think he'll be pretty focused upon his career for a while before he even thinks of settling down, especially if he does end up wanting to be a doctor."

"Well, he's not interested in the garter toss, that's for sure," he pointed out, motioning towards their youngest son who was knee deep in a conversation with the dj about something, undoubtedly, music related. As soon as they had arrived at the reception, the thirteen year old went up to the sound booth, offered his services free of charge, and had not taken off his headphones yet. He hadn't stopped to eat, to congratulate his brother, or to commiserate with his family, but he was also the only Atwood there, besides Garrett, who could honestly say they had enjoyed the party.

However, just as the reassuring words left her husband's mouth, Marissa watched as the thin strap of material somersaulted through the air, past the bachelors in the room to land right in her youngest child's lap. "He did not just do that," she exclaimed, glaring in Garrett's direction. Her only married son met her gaze, smirked, and laughed. "Oh, he's dead," she threatened, preparing herself to get off of Ryan's lap, but his arms shot out to hold her back.

"Oh, I don't think so. You are not going anywhere right now." As she continued to fight against him, he simply tightened his hold, chuckled, and taunted her. "Whatever happened to this tradition not meaning anything, huh, Marissa?"

"Let me go," she demanded, finally managing to escape his embrace. Spinning around on her bare heel, she glared at the father of her children. "And, for that, there will be no playtime tonight! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home – alone – to eat a gallon of ice cream, pout, and cry while taking a bubble bath." She went to walk away, and what was meant to be a haughty stomp turned into an adorably awkward waddle that only made him even more amused. "And, oh, by the way," she stopped to throw one last comment in his direction over her shoulder, "I hate you."

"Love you, too, sweetheart."

She ignored him, pushed past all the other guests, and left. Just as she had predicted, the day had been sheer hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Marissa smiled at her family, feeling calm and serene, and, at eight months pregnant, that was no small feat. Since the wedding, things had calmed down in their life. Garrett and Susan had settled into their relationship as newlyweds, decorating their apartment, going to doctor appointments, and getting ready to have their first child. Despite her dislike for her daughter-in-law, the soon-to-be mother of five had to admit that she was slightly excited about becoming a grandmother. If she blocked out the idea that her son or daughter would be mere months older than its niece or nephew and that she was forty five and expecting her first grandchild, then the surprise addition to their family was a joyous occasion and something to celebrate. She just didn't tell Susan that.

Cooper had been gone for a month, leaving the day after the wedding to report to spring training, and, though she missed her fun loving, always ready for a joke or a party son, Marissa knew that he was happier where he was, so she could put on a brave smile and count down the days between his phone calls. Plus, as he had predicted, her pregnancy was keeping her busy. She and Ryan for the past few weeks had been working in the guest room turning it back into a nursery, choosing neutral hues of color to decorate the space. There had been shopping for baby supplies, and clothes, and new furniture, visits to see Patricia every week, and just the usual day to day living that made their life hectic to keep them busy. But, as they settled down for dinner that night, just the four of them, she couldn't help but smile at her husband and her two youngest children, appreciating their presence with her and enjoying the few, quiet moments a day they could just relax and be a family. Spending time with Ryan, Loren, and Aristan even ranked higher on her list of things to be thankful for that day than the pint of Ben and Jerry's she had snuck before anyone had gotten home earlier…and that had been _so good._

However, she should have known better than to think that the quiet would last very long in their house.

"Aristan made out with a skank on the back of the bus this afternoon on the way home from school," Loren piped up, spilling the beans on her younger brother and earning herself a death glare in the process, a glare that promised revenge and retribution at a later date when she least expected it.

"Hey, congratulations," Ryan cheered on his son, earning a similar glare from his wife.

"What does your sister mean when she says skank?"

"Come on, Mom," it was her daughter who addressed the question, "you were in high school once. Granted, I know it was a long time ago, but I'm sure you had whores, too, who would make out with any dweeb. She's a hoochie dressing, coked out, walking STD, party slut."

"She's not that bad," Aristan defended. "Loren just doesn't like her because that football player she was messing around with last fall cheated on Loren with this girl."

"Excuse me, back up there," her husband demanded, "what football player, and why was my daughter messing around with any guy?"

"Honey," Marissa ignored Ryan's concerns and focused on her own, "you shouldn't ever date girls who hurt your sister."

"I'm not dating her. We just…talked."

"With your tongues down each other's throats," the nurse asked, raising an eyebrow in silent contention. "Look, I get it, you're young, you're curious, and she was…willing, but you've got to be smart about these things. Please, Aristan, you have a good head on your shoulders. Do not throw it all away on some cheap girl."

"I'm still waiting for an explanation from you, young lady," the father of her children barked out, eyeing their daughter with his sternest expression. "And I don't want you to 'oh, Daddy' me this time; I want the truth, and I want all of it."

"Ryan, calm down," Marissa instructed him. "For crying out loud, she's fifteen; she'll be sixteen in a few months. She's going to mess around with boys. It's not as if she was sleeping with him, because, if she was, I know she would have come to me. Besides, even if she does decide to have sex, we've already taken the necessary precautions. We've discussed everything privately, she understands what she should and should not do, and she's on birth control."

"You're supporting this insane idea," he snapped, slamming his fist on the table and making the silverware rattle.

"Of course not," the wife and mother disputed. "When she has sex for the first time, I want it to be with someone she loves and trusts, but I also don't want her to get into any trouble, so I made sure she as safe as I possibly could. Now, if you don't mind joining us in this century, _Ward_, I'm a little more concerned about our thirteen year old who is messing around with skanks in the back of the bus, because I know for a fact you haven't sat him down for the talk yet."

"Mom," Aristan pleaded with her, "it was one skank…I mean one girl, and all we did was kiss." She simply stared at him waiting for more of an explanation. "I swear there was nothing else. I didn't even try to cop a feel, and the kissing only lasted for a few seconds."

"Really," Ryan asked, almost sounding disappointed in his son. His tone warranted him a swift kick to the shin under the table from his wife. "Why?"

"She had bad breath. It was probably the garlic bread from lunch this afternoon."

"Or from all the cum she swallowed giving head during gym class during eighth period today," Loren suggested, smiling sweetly at her younger brother.

"Loren Shae Atwood," her father erupted, turning bright red due to embarrassment. "You do not talk like that!"

"It wasn't as if I was the one giving the blow jobs, Dad. Jeez, calm down before you have a coronary," she teased, laughing at him and further causing the business owner to color as he went from red to purple. "Remember, because of the pregnancy, Mom's not to be practicing right now, so she wouldn't be allowed to save your overprotective ass if you did have a heart attack."

"Would you two please quit it," Marissa beseeched them. "We were trying to have a nice, peaceful family dinner, and now look at what's happened. Aristan's having sex with skanks, Loren's purposely antagonizing you," she let her gaze stop at her husband, "and you're being melodramatic and acting like a chauvinistic hypocrite who congratulates his son for messing around while ridiculing his daughter, his older daughter, for doing the same thing."

"I'm not having sex," their youngest child defended himself.

"Dad deserves everything he's getting," their daughter pouted.

"Aristan can't get pregnant," Ryan pointed out, trying in vain to keep his temper, "but Loren can, so she's not allowed to date boys."

"Fine, I'm just skip the teenage boys phase and jump right to the men," the fifteen year old suggested wickedly. "You know, my history teacher, Mr. Dyson, I call him Travis, is pretty cute. I wonder if he's single and looking for…"

Pushing back his chair, the father of her children was about to start a battle royale when the phone rang, distracting all of them. Immediately, both of their children ran for the ringing device, sliding across the hardwood floors of the dining room, scampering through the foyer, into the hall, and, as she remained seated in her chair, she could hear them pushing and shoving their way through the kitchen. Insults were tossed about, swear words hissed, and, no doubt, a few bruises were granted in their haste to be the one to answer the phone. Several seconds later, a sullen Aristan returned to the room and slumped down in his chair while Loren sauntered in, parading proudly like a prized peacock, the cordless resting comfortably between her ear and the shoulder she was leaning towards.

"Really," she gushed through the line, "that's amazing. I can't believe it. This is what you've always wanted." As she paused to listen to the person on the other line's response, the three clueless family members, Marissa included, sat waiting for her to tell them who it was and what the call was about. She refused to cooperate. "Of course I will. That's no problem." Another pause and the soon-to-be mother of five could feel her blonde hair turning grey from the strain of not knowing. She didn't know what it was, but waiting in suspense was something she could not handle during her pregnancy. Even a semi-mysterious commercial had the power to make her sit on the edge of her seat and bite off each and every one of her long nails. It was utterly ridiculous, and, knowing that Susan was five months pregnant and could at any day be finding out if Garrett's first child was going to be a boy or a girl, she wanted, no needed to know who was on the phone and what they were saying. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that, but I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out. When I know, I'll call you back. Talk to you soon." And, with that, Loren hung up, put the cordless down on the table, and went back to eating as if nothing important had occurred.

"Who was it," they all blurted out at the same time.

"Oh, that," the fifteen year old teased playfully. "Aristan's girlfriend called to let him know that, while her HIV test came back clean, she does have herpes, so… I guess you win some and you lose some, right?"

"For the last time, she's not my fucking girlfriend!" Seeing his mother's disapproving glance, he averted his eyes and apologized. "Sorry."

"Loren," Ryan directed, "just tell us what the phone call was really about."

"It was Cooper. Their first regular season game is next week in Vancouver, and he's sending us tickets in the mail, because he wants us to come up for the game."

"Well, the two of you should at least go," her husband stated, "and I'm sure Garrett would want to be there, so I'll give him a call tonight and see if he can take you up there, my treat."

"Susan is not going to allow him to go anywhere," Aristan pointed out. "You know as well as I do that she's like a leech to his side, sucking the very life out of him."

"Well, Miss Susie can just go and stay with her parents. There's no way we're going to miss Cooper's big day. We're all going, and that's final."

"Yeah, except you're not allowed to fly," Ryan pointed out, contradicting his wife's announcement. "We've come too far in this pregnancy to do something stupid and risk your life or the baby's."

"I'm not an invalid," Marissa reasoned. "I'm perfectly capable of riding in the car."

"You want to go on a road trip to Canada…to CANADA?!"

"Well, would you look at the time," Loren interrupted her parents' argument. "I really need to get going. My dealer's meeting me at the corner. He said he has some hot shit for me to buy from him tonight."

"Yeah, and I have an orgy of skanks waiting for me up in my room," Aristan added, playing along with his sister's joke. "We'll just be…yeah," he excused both of them as they quietly crept out of the room, their sudden retreat going completely unnoticed by the two dueling adults.

"It's not as if we have to go to the far side of the country," the nurse stated, effectively pouting. "It would be farther to drive to most major cities in the US than it will be to go to Vancouver."

"And I would veto taking a road trip to any of those places, too." Sighing, Ryan moved his chair so that he was sitting close beside her and wrapped a strong, comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to rest against him. "You're set upon going, aren't you?"

"For his whole life, Cooper has only had one dream, and that was to play sports professionally. As his mother, how can I not be there?"

Silently, he sat for several seconds in contemplation. Finally, he offered, "if I agree to a compromise, will you?"

"What's the compromise?"

"I'll agree to drive to Canada to watch the game if Patricia says it's alright."

"And you won't call her before our appointment and blackmail her into siding with you," Marissa asked, only half teasing.

"We'll play this straight," her husband assented, kissing her forehead. "If you're fair, then I'll be fair."

"I'll be more than fair," she promised, surprising him by getting up off of her chair and curling herself into his laugh. When he moaned in mock complaint, the soon-to-be mother of five pinched him. "I'll be as good as gold. You have my word as a lady."

"What if I don't want you to behave like a lady?"

"Too bad, because until this whale of a child is out of me," Marissa caressed her eight months swollen abdomen affectionately, "I'm going to be the picture of gentility and grace around you, mister."

"And that's why it's a good thing I wasn't a lawyer," Ryan mused, "because I'm one hell of a bad deal maker. Imagine what I could have gotten for myself if I held out longer."

They shared a laugh, and, just like that, the peace she had found earlier in the evening returned.

Marissa was late, he was on time, and Patricia was going to have to cancel their appointment and schedule them a new one if his wife didn't get there soon. Despite his calm exterior, he was a mess of nerves inside. So many terrible 'what if' scenarios were playing themselves out in his mind, and, in that moment, he didn't care what her excuse was, he just wanted the mother of his children to walk through the door and let him know that she and their unborn baby were both safe.

"You don't think she went to the hospital thinking her appointment was supposed to be there, do you," Ryan asked the OB-GYN sitting beside him in the small exam room. "Because of all the tests we've had run on the baby so far, we have had to go there quite a few times."

"Not any more than necessary, trust me. I know Marissa too well, and the more opportunities we give her to be around her work, the less likely she'll stick to my rules. Not working at this point is probably driving her insane."

"Actually, she's been better than I thought she would be," he shared. "She's been really focused on taking care of things, making sure everything is ready for the baby and spending time with Loren and Aristan to make up for the lack of time she's going to have for them once the baby's born. In fact, she seems just as busy as ever but without the stress of being a visiting nurse with emergency on call duties."

"With you owning the business now, maybe you'll be able to convince her to cut back on her work load once she returns in a few months."

"Well, you can bet I'm going to try," Ryan laughed, agreeing with the doctor. "Besides the kids, she's also been spending more time with me, and, for the first time in years, it feels like it was when we first met. She even went with me to a jobsite last week, and she's always dropping in with surprise lunches or to steal me away to go shopping for the baby."

"That's great," she smiled at him. "I have to admit that I was worried this pregnancy might put a strain on your marriage, but, after a rocky start, it seems to have had the opposite effect. You and Marissa seem closer than ever."

"We are," his wife agreed as she walked into the room after hearing her physician's last comment. Greeting him, she kissed his cheek before sitting down and taking his hand in hers. "Sorry I'm late, but, on my way here, I was driving past that new boutique on the corner of Elm and Washington, and I saw this amazing bassinet in the window." Turning towards her husband, she explained, "you know that it's the last thing we still needed, and I was going to wait for you to go with me, but I couldn't risk it and allow this one to slip through my fingers. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, of course not," the father of five reassured her. "I'm just glad that you're okay. I was worried about you though. Next time you're going to be late, could you do me a favor and call me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she cringed in way of apology. "I didn't even think about calling. I was just too excited about this bassinet."

"You can show me after your appointment. I've decided that I'm going to take you to lunch before I go back to work."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "You mean you decided to go with me to monitor my food intake."

"Apples and oranges," he dismissed, making her laugh despite her best effort.

Interrupting their moment, Patricia spoke up. "Alright, you two, before you make me either sick to my stomach or jealous, let's stop flirting so I can quickly perform the check up. Before we begin, is there anything you need to tell me or ask?"

"Yes," Ryan answered. "We need to know about your rules on traveling."

"Absolutely no flying."

"Oh, we know that," Marissa reassured her. "However, we were wondering if a car trip would be alright."

"Well, with you so close to your due date, I would prefer for you to stay close to the city in case you go into labor," the OB-GYN admitted. "Where do you want to go, and how important is this trip to you?"

"We would be going to Vancouver," he answered.

"As in Canada?"

"I know it's quite the jaunt," his wife conceded, "but…"

"Quite the jaunt has to be the understatement of the day…of the month," the physician interrupted. "Marissa, you're talking about going to a foreign country. I don't care how advanced of a nation Canada is, that's still a medical risk for a woman in your condition with your health issues."

"It's Cooper," the mother of his children blurted out in a hurry. "He's playing in his first professional game in a few days, and I need to be there as his mother. I have to see him play. There has to be some way we can do this. Please?"

"Are you willing to do everything I tell you to do and follow my instruction down to very last the letter?"

"I swear on the lives on my children," Marissa promised.

"Alright," Patricia agreed, "but this is not going to be some pleasant day trip. I've been to Vancouver before, and I remember that it took us about fourteen and a half hours to get there. Normally, I would say that you drive no more than six hours a day, but I want you back here and in my care as soon as possible, so you're going to make this trip in two days. Seven hours and fifteen minutes of driving on the first day, and seven hours and fifteen minutes of driving on the second. After every two hours of driving, I want you to stop the car, go to the bathroom, and walk around for at least ten minutes to increase the blood flow to your lower extremities. With you, especially with you, we do not want to risk blood clots. Ryan," she paused to look at him, "you are to do all the driving no matter what and make sure that she stays on her two hours of riding, ten minutes of walking schedule. Also, I want you to plan your route so that pass through as many major cities as possible, so that you're always close to a hospital. When you stop for the night after the first day of driving, stop in a large city; I'm thinking Eugene should work well. Finally, I want all my numbers programmed on your phone, my cell, my office, my beeper, my extension at the hospital, and my home number."

"They already are," Ryan assured her.

"And as soon as you're home, you need to come in for a check up."

"I will…we will," his wife promised, squeezing his hand in excitement, "but, other than that, we can go?"

Patricia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, and it's completely against my better judgment, but, yes, you can go."

"You know," Marissa mused, affectionately taking his arm as she led him towards their seats, "the trip wasn't that bad."

"Excuse me?"

Without either hearing him or paying attention to his contradicting question, she continued. "In fact, maybe we should take road trips more often. It's good family bonding time."

"Honey, you were awake for a combined forty-five minutes of the two day trip. You have no idea what it was like for me putting up with Loren and Aristan's bickering the whole way."

"Oh, I'm sure they weren't that bad," she dismissed, playfully kissing his cheek. "You're just overreacting because you're tired, and I really am sorry about that. I don't know what came over me last night. For some reason, by the time we got to the hotel, I just wasn't tired, and it had been years since I've seen _Anne of Green Gables_. Plus, since we were going to Canada, I knew it was a sign that I had to watch it."

"But with the volume turned up that high, was that necessary, too?"

"Oh, don't be like that," his wife furrowed her brow to sulk at him. "You had fun, too. When was the last time we stayed up all night like kids?"

"Probably when we didn't have two teenagers who would fight the entire way from Oregon to Vancouver, and, speaking of our brats, where did they go?"

"Oh, they were hungry," Marissa answered quickly, her sullen mood brought upon by his complaining already forgotten.

"But we just ate."

"Like two hours ago," she argued, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I had a craving for honey roasted peanuts, so I sent them to get me some."

"With what," Ryan questioned as he helped her sit down. Once she was in the seat, he handed her the pillows he had been carrying for her, placing one behind her back and another on her lap. The second one was in case she needed to sit on it later after a few innings of the game made her tender body sore. "They didn't bring any money with them, and you left your purse in the car."

"Oh, I gave them your credit card."

"What," he sputtered, confused and surprised by what she said. "But…how did you…? It was in my wallet which was in my back pocket the whole time."

"Sweetheart, we've been married for fifteen years now. If I couldn't sneak your wallet out of your pants by now without getting caught, what kind of wife would I be?"

Joining the mother of his children, he sat down in the seat beside her. "I can't believe you had your hands on my ass, and I didn't even feel it. That's more action than I've seen in a month. Next time you want to steal my wallet, please," he begged, "let me know so that I can at least enjoy it."

Shocking him further, she leaned over and placed a small yet sensual kiss on his lips only to pull back, smirk at him, and pat his jaw. "You know, you're cute when you're all pouty like this."

"I don't pout, Marissa," he corrected her. "I'm a guy. I might glower, and I might mope, but I do not pout."

"Whatever you say," she laughed, appeasing him.

The kids returned moments later with more food than any four normal, even American people could eat, and Ryan didn't even want to think about the bill he would see on his credit card receipt when it came in the mail the next month. Even at a minor league stadium, the amount of snacks they purchased would put a nice sized dent in his retirement fund, but, while they ate, Loren and Aristan quit picking on each other and were actually quiet, and, as the famed commercial went, some purchases were just priceless. His wife was so excited to be there and proud of her son when his name was announced before the first inning started, that she didn't ask him to massage her feet or help her go to the restroom fifty times in sixty minutes, and, before he knew it, the game, tied three-three, was in the bottom of the ninth inning, and Cooper, their son, _his son_ was on third base with two outs, and the batter at the plate was facing the next pitch with the count at three balls and two strikes. It was one of the most nerve-wracking, exciting, proud moments of his entire life.

The pitcher wound up, his leg lifting high into the air like the memorable El Duque, and, in a blink of an eye, the ball was thrown, hurtling towards home plate at upwards of ninety miles per hour.

The pitch was wild, hitting the dirt before the batter's box and ricocheting off behind the catcher to stop against the backboard. It was ball four, and, even though the batter was making his way towards first plate and another player was ready to bat, the third base coach sent Cooper towards home, believing they could win the game on a steal after a passed ball.

Jumping to his feet, his wife and children beside him yelling and cheering just as loudly as he was, Ryan watched as his son made his way towards home plate, the winning run in his first professional game, and knew he couldn't have scripted a more perfect day for the twenty-four year old kid at heart if he had tried.

The catcher found the passed ball, picked it up, and scurried back to the base, blocking it in an attempt to get Cooper out. The entire stadium collectively held their breath as they watched the two athletes collide into each other, Cooper's momentum hurtling them both backwards.

The ball came out of the catcher's glove; Cooper was safe.

As the two men landed though, Ryan watched as his son's leg bent backwards at a terrifying angle, and the silenced crowd was treated to the sound of bone snapping throughout the ballpark. It was the sound of a career ending, of a life being shattered into a million, tiny, little, unrecognizable pieces.

And, as he turned to his wife to comfort her, he felt his own life become threatened. Marissa was doubled over in pain, clutching her swollen abdomen, an abdomen which was the only thing protecting their unborn child, and, under her feet was a pink tinged puddle of liquid.

Their son was injured, her water was broken, and something was definitely not right with her sudden onslaught of labor.

Ryan felt as if he couldn't breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

His thirteen year old son was drinking coffee.

Ryan knew he shouldn't laugh, that the situation did not call for humor, but he couldn't help it. Watching as Aristan lifted a large cup of the strong, hospital brew to his lips and winced at the bitter taste, for the first time since they stepped foot into the sterile environment, the very soon-to-be father of five felt normal, and, for a few brief seconds, he wasn't worried about his wife, his unborn daughter or son, or Cooper who was awaiting news that could forever end his profession baseball career. It was exactly what he needed. Feeling grounded and relaxed enough to actually be helpful to those he loved, he lifted his hand and plucked the steaming Styrofoam cup from his youngest child's grasp.

"Give me that. I give you my entire wallet, and this was the best thing you could find to spend my money on? You don't need to be drinking coffee yet while you're still young. Save it for those of us who really need it, please."

"It's going to be a long night, Dad," the teenager argued. "I'm going to need the caffeine to stay awake. Plus," he added sheepishly, "everything else in the cafeteria looked inedible."

"And you remember the last time he ate the 'lunch lady delight special,' don't you," Loren piped in, plopping down in a chair and turning on the television before her. "Mom got called into an emergency surgery three years ago. You were out of town, Garrett had a final, and Cooper was MIA. We ended up playing around the hospital hallways after school and ate cafeteria food for dinner. On the way home, the dweeb puked all over himself and my brand new sneakers. And we're not talking your usual, everyday, run of the mill puke; it was lime green and chucky. The worst part was nothing he ate was green. The special that night was sloppy Joe, so you do the math."

"Well, where did you get your food," the father asked, nodding towards his daughter's sub, bag of chips, candy bar, and bottle of water."

"Oh, I found this cute surgical intern, and he obviously thought I was much older than I am, because, after I flirted with him for a little bit, you know, complimenting him on how he looked in his scrubs and how gentle and delicate his hands were, he was bending to my every whim. He went out and picked this stuff up for me."

"There you have it," Ryan instructed his son. "Go and find a cute nurse or a doctor and have them find you some dinner, and, when you get back, I don't care what you have to do, sit on your sister if necessary, but keep her away from any living, breathing male between the ages of twelve and forty."

"Are you crazy," Loren taunted him. "You want Aristan to flirt his way into getting someone to run errands for him? Please, the kid's voice still squeaks when he gets excited. Only skanks are attracted to puberty boy, and most doctors aren't skanks."

Before the business owner could reply, his son started yelling at the fifteen year old. "What the hell is wrong with you? Cooper's so jacked up on pain killers right now, he can't even realize that he'll, in all likelihood, never play baseball again, and Mom is in premature labor fourteen and half hours away from both her doctor and her hospital. She and the baby could die!"

"No one is going to die, not on my watch," he attempted to reassure his children. Wrapping an arm around Aristan's shoulders, he pulled the youngest Atwood into his side and hugged him in a gesture of comfort. "And don't let Loren's flippant behavior fool you. She's avoiding her fear by making fun of you and trying to pick a fight with both of us, but it's not going to work, because I know my little girl." With his insightful words, the gymnast stood up and moved to her father's free side, enfolding him in a tight embrace and burying her face against his chest. Within seconds, Ryan could feel her tears soaking through the cotton.

With only the sounds of the hospital surrounding them, the television muted, they stood there, calming down and regaining control of their emotions. Loren was the first to pull back, and, surprising the expectant father, she took her little brother's hand in hers and squeezed it. "I made sure the intern got me enough food so that I could share with Aristan."

"Thank you." Sighing, Ryan rubbed a work hardened hand across his face before gesturing towards the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and insinuating that he wanted them all to sit down. "Normally, when something's wrong, I turn to Garrett and Cooper for help, because they're already adults and I always wanted to shield the two of you from as much pain and fear as I possibly could for as long as I possibly could, but I can't do that now. I'm going to need your help to get through this, so can you two put aside your bickering and your teasing for a couple of days and be the big sister and brother you're about to become?"

"Of course, Dad," the thirteen year old promised, sharing a like-minded look with his older sibling. "We'll do whatever you need us to."

"Well, as you mentioned, for the moment, Cooper is alright, because he's floating on a morphine cloud right now, but I won't feel comfortable staying with your Mom in her hospital room if he's alone. So, if you would, I would like one of you to always be with him, keeping him distracted and content for as long as possible. You can work in shifts or just both stay in his room, perhaps taking turns sleeping, but let me know what's going on every couple of hours."

"You have to do the same," Loren directed. "We'll do whatever you need us to, but you can't keep us in the dark about Mom. Let us know how everything progresses, and, as soon as her cesarean is over, we want to know all the details about the baby. Name, weight, height, color of hair, how many wrinkles he or she has on their tiny little fingers. If it's something you can take note of, we're going to want to hear about it."

Grumbling, Aristan pointed out, "this whole situation would be a lot easier to manage if we were allowed to use our cell phones. We could just text message each other back and forth."

"Oh, no," the business owner stood up, squaring his shoulders and attempting to look his sternest as he threatened his two youngest children. With index finger pointed towards them, he warned, "you will follow every rule this hospital has. It's one thing for you to get in trouble where your Mom works, but it's a whole different story to start up your antics here. I do not need the Mounties after me."

"Daddy," his only daughter tried to pacify him. "We're practically adults now. We're not going to pull any pranks. I promise."

"Let me get this straight," he questioned, a confused look upon his face. "At fifteen and thirteen, respectively, you're practically adults, but at fourteen and twelve as you were last year when you snuck into a sedated patient's room and drew inappropriate pictures on him, you weren't practically adults then?" Loren giggled, and Aristan rolled his eyes. "And what about this fall when you Xeroxed copies of before and after pictures for breast augmentation cases and then sold them to the neighbor kids, you weren't adults then either, right?"

"That was just good business, Dad," the musician of the family joked, earning a high five from his sister. "And, seeing as how you're the businessman in the family, I'd say we learned those mad skills from you."

"Your Mother and I must be crazy to try this whole parenting thing for the fifth time," Ryan mumbled as he made his way towards the exit of the waiting room and the hallway which would take him to his wife. "I mean, look at how the two of you turned out, and, by the time we had you, we already two kids to practice with."

"It's a little too late for those thoughts, don't you think," Loren mocked. "The fifth baby is already here. How about next time, Dad, you don't be silly and wrap your willy."

His thirteen year old laughed loudly and joined in on the game. "Don't be like Dumb and Dumber, Pops; wear a rubber."

"Don't be a tool; cover yo'self, fool!"

"Seriously," Aristan begged of his sister, "never try to go ghetto again."

"What, it didn't work?"

"It was about as convincing as Vanilla Ice trying to be a bad ass gangster."

"Damn," the fifteen year old cursed. "Anyway, it's your turn."

"Before you have fun, bind your wiener with a bun."

"Alright, that's enough," Ryan rained on their parade while, simultaneously, trying to sound stern and not give in to the amusement he felt. Ushering them out of the door, he pushed them both towards the wall of elevators to their left. "Go play this game with Cooper. He's high. I'm sure he'll be able to come up with a few good ones."

"Have fun getting your hand broken," Loren offered as her parting words before turning back to her younger brother. As the soon-to-be father of five went in the opposite direction, he could hear her whispering, "we really need to work on finding more euphemisms. It's too bad nothing rhymes with prophylactic."

Really, what were they thinking having another child, especially one with such stellar role models? Chuckling, Ryan moved just a little bit faster down the hallway. Despite his worry and his doubts, he couldn't deny that he was excited to meet his new son or daughter, and there was no place he would ever rather be than by his wife's side, even if she was in labor.

As he pushed open the door to Marissa's hospital room, Ryan's sense of normalcy he had experienced with his children vanished immediately. Something felt…off.

"Hey, I sent the kids to spend some time with… What's wrong?"

His wife held out a clammy hand to him just as her deep, sapphire eyes pleaded with him to make her pain go away. Through her practiced breathing, she answered, "it's another contraction. They're coming closer and closer together."

"How close?"

"I don't know," she panted through the pain. "I've been a little too distracted to watch the clock."

The pressure she was applying to his hand was already cutting off the circulation, so he knew her labor was already progressing too far and that it was out of control. "They're probably too close then. Has anyone been in to check on you since I left, a nurse, the doctor?"

"No, no one…which made me assume you weren't gone for that long."

Her contraction finished, and, as Marissa took a deep, cleansing breath, he reached across the bed to get her bucket of ice chips, sliding one between her chapped lips. "Actually, I was with the kids longer than I wanted to be." Smoothing her hair away from her sticky brow, he explained, "Loren was up to her usual tricks, Aristan got upset that she was joking around, and then, by the time we separated, she had him good and distracted, so he wasn't as focused upon his fear. Say what you want about our little girl, but she's good in a crisis. She gets that from you."

"You seem pretty calm right now yourself," the nurse complimented him. "Most guys would be sweating bullets and panicking by now."

"Aw, but you forget that I've been through this twice before, and this is your fifth time giving birth. We're old pros at this."

"Speak for yourself," she laughed, smiling and making him relax slightly. "Everything feels differently this time. Maybe it's just because it's been almost fourteen years since I last gave birth, but I don't remember it hurting this much. I must really be out of shape, especially since this baby is premature. He or she should be a good few pounds smaller than any of the other kids."

"Speaking of boy or girl," he prompted her, "we don't have any names picked out yet. I told you right away that I thought it was a boy, but you haven't said anything. That's because you know, don't you?"

"I've had three boys and a girl, and. let me tell you, there are major differences with how you carry the two. If I'm as in touch with my body as I think I am, I'm pretty much sure about what I'm having."

Ryan chuckled. "And you don't think you should share this bit of information with me?"

"I want you to be surprised."

"Yeah, but that's not going to help us name the baby," he pointed out. "If you told me whether or not we're having a boy or a girl, we could narrow down the possible names by half right now."

"It's not going to work," she stated, starting to breathe heavily again. "Nice try though."

"Hey, what is it," the business owner asked, standing up and hovering over her. "What's wrong?"

"It's just another contraction. I told you they seemed close together."

"That's because they are." Reaching for the call button, the expectant father pressed it several times, wanting to impress upon the hospital staff that it was urgent someone come to their aid. "They're too close, less than two minutes apart. Does that even leave enough time to perform a cesarean?"

"The doctors know what they're doing," Marissa reassured him. "It's going to be alright." Holding her hand out for his, she silently asked him to sit back down and help her through the pain. "Nothing's going to happen to me. You'll see. I'll be up and about again in no time, driving you crazy and making you run errands for me all around town while I recuperate."

He kissed her hand, looking away from her desperate gaze, a gaze that was contrary to her confident words and seeking encouragement, encouragement he couldn't offer her.

When he didn't reply, she continued, "but if something does go wrong, I met with a lawyer a couple of months ago…"

That got his attention. "You did what?"

"I wanted…no I needed to be prepared," his wife told him. "I couldn't get ready to have this baby knowing that it was a risk to my life and not have my affairs in order."

"I don't want to talk about this," the soon-to-be father of five cut her off. "Maybe you needed to see an attorney, but I need to believe that when I walk out of here, you are going to be beside me, holding our newborn son or daughter in your arms. I can't sit here and let you go into surgery with words about you making your will and being prepared to die ringing through my mind. It's like," he gestured wildly before settling his hands on the side of her bed in a death grip, "tempting fate, so no more. You can tell me about everything you did AFTER you're wheeled into recovery."

"Ryan, you're just being unreasonable."

"No, Marissa, I'm being optimistic, and I really wish you would be, too." Springing out of his chair again, he hit the call button several more times. "Where the hell is that doctor?"

"I'm sure he's on his way," the nurse attempted to calm him. "And if you don't want to talk about this, we won't."

"Thank you."

"But I need you to sit back and down and hold my hand, because I feel another contraction coming."

He did as she asked, but, as his wife squeezed his fingers as if they were her only lifeline, his gaze constantly shifted back and forth from the woman he loved to the door where, at any moment, he expected a physician to walk through. As the mother of his children suffered through the pain of labor, he became increasingly agitated. Her case was sensitive, her pregnancy high risk, so Ryan didn't understand why she wasn't a priority on the OB-GYN floor. When the nurses' desk was paged concerning her room, someone should have ran to her side, but either the call button didn't work or they just weren't too concerned about the case.

Nether he nor Marissa talked as she battled her way through the contraction, and it was just as she was taking her last deep breath, the waves of discomfort passing, that the hospital door was pushed open and the doctor entered, his head buried in a chart, presumably Ryan's wife's.

"What seems to be the problem? On my way here to tell you that we have an OR booked for Mrs. Atwood's cesarean in an hour, a nurse told me you were paging for assistance."

"Her labor is progressing too quickly," the husband and father answered sharply. "You need to move up her surgery. This baby needs delivered now."

"Sir, while I can appreciate your concern for your wife, I guarantee you she's not in danger of giving birth to your son or daughter before we get her into the OR. She was just brought in here two hours ago," the physician stated, glancing at his watch, "and she was barely dilated one centimeter upon her initial exam."

"Well, check her again, because I've been through this before, and her contractions are too close together."

Just as the words left Ryan's mouth, Marissa started panting and practicing her Lamaze techniques again, alerting him to the fact that she was in the throes of another contraction.

"That's good, Mrs. Atwood," the doctor complimented her breathing. "You've obviously been through this before."

"Have you not read her medical history," the business owner challenged. "Of course she's been through this before, this is her fifth child. That's how we know that she, under no circumstances whatsoever, can give birth vaginally, that's how we know that this baby must be delivered by cesarean, and that's how I know you need to examine my wife again right this minute."

"If it will make you feel better, Sir, I'll do as you ask," the OB-GYN consented. He moved his stool across the tiled floor and sat down at the end of the bed, lifting the sheet off Marissa's legs and holding it up to check her. "This is…I've never seen anything like this."

"AAARRRGGGHHHH, I need to push," the mother of his children warned. "I can feel the baby. It's coming; it's here. You need to do something…push it back in, I don't know."

Barking at the doctor, Ryan demanded, "what do you mean you haven't seen anything like this before?"

"You're wife is fully dilated and effaced. Her labor has progressed far more quickly than I ever could have predicted. We need to move her into delivery."

"But I'm supposed to have a cesarean; I'm not supposed to give birth," Marissa pleaded, immediately reaching for the security of her husband's hand.

"I'm sorry, but you've progressed too far. The baby is already in the birth canal, so we cannot safely perform a cesarean at this point," the physician answered.

"So what you're saying is that you, through your incompetence, have put both my wife's life and our unborn child's life in danger. Did you not read her chart? Did you not see that she nearly bled out thirteen and half years when she gave birth to our son? She hemorrhages!"

"And we're aware of that, Mr. Atwood. We'll have blood transfusions standing by in case they are needed, and we'll do everything we can to prevent the hemorrhaging in the first place. Now we can stand here and argue about this, or we can get your wife into delivery. It's your choice."

With one word, the expectant father ordered, "go."

"You can change into your scrubs and meet us there," the OB-GYN offered while ushering in several nurses who were there to prepare and push Marissa into the delivery room. "Don't take long though or you might miss it. Time, here, is of the essence."

Although the doctor didn't say it, the meaning behind his statement echoed throughout the disinfected space. _Time…it was the difference between life and death._

The delivery room was a whirlwind of activity, but Ryan tried to focus all his attention upon keeping his wife, the mother of his children, focused and calm. In that moment, in that room, it was not about his insecurities, his fears, or his dread. After all, it was Marissa giving birth. It was her body that was failing them, her life at risk, and she was the one that needed reassured, so that was exactly what he was going to do. He held her hand, wiped her brow, tucked her hair back away from her face, and whispered soothing words of encouragement and faith and support in her ear. If he closed his eyes, it was as if they were in their own little world where worry and pain did not exist.

The doctors disappeared, their concerned glances and tones of voice did not register, and even the harsh, overhead, fluorescent lighting found in every hospital somehow seemed to become dim and almost soft and luminescent. Here, in their own little world, he could believe that both his wife and his unborn son or daughter would make it out of the delivery room in one piece, healthy, happy, and smiling. Was it realistic? Was it probable? Was it smart to delude himself into believing the best, Ryan knew it wasn't, but sometimes one had to do what was necessary to get through something, and Marissa needed him there, she needed his hope and his optimism, and she certainly did not need him attacking her physician. Even a fool of a doctor was better than no doctor at all.

So, he ignored the itching in his fists that could only be quelled by ramming them into the OB-GYN's face, he ignored the words of threat and revenge bubbling up inside of his mouth, and he pushed down the bile of resentment suffocating him to the point where he felt he could pass out from complete lack of control upon his body. If he was this distraught over the thought of losing his wife, it was simply inconceivable to him to think about what life would be like if she wasn't there, so he remained in the little world he had created for the two of them, he savored it, trusted it, hid inside of it for as long as he could.

"Sir," a kind nurse broke into his stillness and through his composure, "it's over. Would you like to hold your daughter?" The young woman had a warm, congratulatory smile upon her dimpled face. He looked down in her arms, and, just as she had said, there was a perfect, newborn baby girl, all big, blue eyes and thick, long, raven lashes. Everything else on her face seemed to disappear behind those eyes, eyes that were just like her mother's.

He smiled at the medical professional and lifted his daughter from the girl's arms, immediately turning her so that Marissa could see their miracle baby as well. "Loren is going to be so mad," he whispered to his wife, chuckling softly while still observing the tiny infant in his arms. "She's going to be jealous and angry, and she'll rant and rave that _it _has to go back, and I can't wait to tell her." Grinning, he glanced up at the love of his life. "Oh my god."

In that moment, he had no idea what kept him from dropping his daughter.

"Get him out of here," the doctor ordered menacingly towards the same nurse who had just handed him his baby girl. "He cannot be in here right now. He's only going to make things worse."

And, just like that, their newborn was taken out of his arms and he was pushed out of the delivery room, Marissa's deathly pale, practically translucent and lifeless lips mocking him. She was unconscious, no doubt from blood loss, and, as he collapsed just outside of the doors that could lead him back to his wife's side, he could feel her slipping away from him.

"Dad," Loren's hesitant and scared voice asked from behind him, "what's wrong? Where's the baby? Where's Mom?"

"There were…complications," he managed to get out of his parched and dry mouth. "They…she, what are you two doing here?"

"A nurse came to Cooper's room and told us Mom was in delivery," Aristan answered for his sister, the two of them moving to kneel beside their father. "She said that since Cooper was asleep, we should probably be here instead." Swallowing thickly and dashing away the tears in his eyes, the thirteen year old refused to cry. "Are they…are they still alive?"

As he lifted his eyes to his son's face, Ryan wished with everything in his soul that he could reassure his children, but he had never lied to them before and he refused to start then. If Marissa didn't make it out of the delivery room alive, he would somehow have to make it through the loss to care for their children, and he couldn't do that if their children didn't trust him. "I don't know, son," he finally answered, pulling both children into a tight embrace and not caring that he was openly crying. "We should call Garrett. He needs to be here, too, just in case…"

_Just in case his mother died._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

No one was telling him anything, and if Ryan didn't get some answers and soon, he was going to blow a top, something he hadn't done for years. He knew he had a temper, had known of its existence since he was a child, but he had learned to curtail his impulses and think through his actions when he was a teenager. It had been years, especially since Marissa and her two impressionable boys had entered his life, since he had felt the blinding urge to attack someone, but as he sat in the waiting room without any answers to his questions, wondering if his wife was alive and barely keeping it together for their children, the idea of landing his solid fist into the fleshy jowls of her doctor's pompous, inconsiderate, malpracticing face, appealed to him greatly, not to mention the fact that it would feel good, too.

But he couldn't do that, not when his twenty-five year old son sat up at home wondering if his mother would survive long enough to meet her first grandchild, not when his twenty-three year old son was facing a life changing injury, not when his fifteen year old daughter was looking to him to reassure her, not when his thirteen year old son was using him as an example of how to act and keep his uncertain emotions under control, not when his new baby girl was resting peacefully in her incubator, fed, clothed, and loved, and certainly not when his wife was hanging in the balance somewhere between life and death. However, was it really too much to ask for an update?

It was four in the morning, the television could no longer distract him with its mindless infomercials and late night public programming, and his children were all asleep, leaving him with only the haunting thoughts of his own mind to keep him awake and distracted from the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, his life had completely fallen down around him. Aristan slept on the floor at his feet, curled up and looking so much younger than his years. His youngest son appeared innocent in his sleep and all Ryan wanted to do was somehow wrap him up in a world where nothing bad would ever happen and protect him, but that, unfortunately, was impossible.

And then there was Loren, teasing, always happy, a smile permanently on her face Loren. His daughter who had such an enthusiasm for life slept beside him, her legs drawn up against her chest as if to ward away the pain she was feeling and her left hand clasped tightly in his, and, just by looking at her, the father of five knew that the light that normally shined so brightly in her eyes had been dimmed There would be no smile on her face if she woke up and met his concerned gaze. Everywhere he turned something was broken, something needed fixed, but there were no tools in Ryan's garage that could repair a shattered spirit or a damaged heart, and he had never felt more helpless.

"Mr. Atwood," the doctor stuck his head in through the open doorway, clearing his throat and casting his grey eyes away from the family before him. Ryan wasn't sure if the older man was embarrassed, ashamed, or apprehensive. Then again, it might have been a combination of all three emotions; the guy certainly should have been feeling them plus some others. "May I please speak to you…in private?"

Without a word, the business owner stood up, quietly rearranged his slumbering daughter beside him, fleetingly smiling at the teenage girl's mumbled words, a sure sign she was lost in another place and time somewhere in her dreams, and strode purposely across the room to join the physician he literally trembled to hit. "Just…," he paused to take a deep, calming breath, "before you say anything else, tell me – is my wife still alive?"

"Yes, she is. In fact, she's recovering nicely upstairs on our post-op floor. Her vitals are steady, she's breathing on her own, and she should be up in a matter of hours asking for you. However," the OB-GYN steered Ryan further away from the waiting room, "there were complications from the birth, severe ones, and I feel it would be wise if you and I were to discuss them in my office. You're going to need to be prepared to inform your family and, more importantly, there are some things Mrs. Atwood is going to need told that would probably be best coming from you, someone she loves and trusts."

"If that's your way of reassuring me everything is going to be alright," the husband and father snapped, glaring testily at the physician, his muscled and calloused hands tightly fisted together at his sides, "then your bed side manner needs some serious work."

"No, that was me being upfront with you. After everything that's happened this evening,…"

"And by everything," he interrupted taking another step closer to the doctor and lowering his voice to a menacing whisper, "you mean your medical incompetence, your absolute dismissal of my wife's case, and your negligence, because, if so, I've got to tell you, owning up now and admitting to your mistakes is not going to fix what you broke tonight."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Atwood," the older man agreed. Without preamble, he started walking down the hallway towards his office, never once asking Ryan to follow but knowing that he would. "And I guess its for situations like this that doctors and hospitals carry heavy malpractice insurance."

"I guess it is."

For the rest of the way to the doctor's office, the two men moved in silence, both collecting their thoughts and organizing them so that, when they spoke again, they would be prepared. Ryan followed the OB-GYN into the room, sat down in the leather chair opposite the physician's desk, and waited for the explanation and the excuses to begin.

"After your wife lost consciousness from the loss of too much blood, we first gave her a transfusion."

"She's had them before," the business owner responded, nodding his head to show that he understood, so far, the medical steps taken to revive the woman he loved.

"Luckily, it appears that, despite having had several transfusions already during her lifetime, her body is not rejecting or attacking the new blood. However, she is having a slight reaction, but we caught it quickly and are already treating the fever and shortness of breath she was experiencing."

Closing his eyes briefly and taking a moment to settle himself down, the father of five admitted, "that happened when she had Aristan as well."

"There's more I have to tell you though," the doctor immediately stated, making Ryan's heavy and black shadowed lids snap open. "The transfusions weren't working, and we could not get the hemorrhaging to stop."

Slow realization slowly crept upon him. "You said something before about her resting upstairs in post-op…as in post-operation?"

"Yes," the older man answered. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the physician shook his head in apology. "We did everything we could, Mr. Atwood, but nothing worked. A hysterectomy is always the last course of action, but, in your wife's case, it was necessary."

"What the hell are you telling me exactly," Ryan growled, standing up and, in his haste, knocking down the chair he had been sitting on. "You removed my wife's reproductive organs without her consent or without even consulting me? How the hell can you do that?"

"It's simple really. We could have either stopped our actions so I could come out and discuss a required surgery with you, effectively killing Mrs. Atwood in the process, or we could have continued with out efforts to save her life and done everything in our power to make sure she made it off that delivery table alive." There was a noticeable bite to the doctor's words when he continued. "I'm sorry if my putting my patient's needs ahead of your own offends you, Sir."

"But that's just it," Ryan returned, his own tone harsh with accusation, "none of this would have been necessary if you would done your job properly in the beginning. And now you're telling me that not only do I have to explain to my wife that she nearly died while giving birth to our daughter, but I also have to explain to her that you, without her consent, performed a hysterectomy. Just how the hell do you propose I do that; how the hell do I tell a mother that she is no longer capable of having children?"

"She's forty-five and already has five healthy kids. I would think she would be satisfied with what she already has."

"It's not the fact that she cannot have any more children," Ryan snapped, pounding the OB-GYN's desk for emphasis. "It's that you took that option away from her without her assent or her knowledge. It would be like you going in to have a routine check up performed and waking up with a complete orchidectomy. I doubt you'd react very well either."

"Sir," the older man corrected, keeping his voice level, "this isn't about me, and the fact is your wife and daughter are still alive. Under the best of circumstances, this wouldn't have happened, but it's too late now for wishful thinking or to place blame. All we can do now is move forward and help Mrs. Atwood through this as well as we possibly can. She's going to need you by her side, supporting her and being as understanding as you can; your anger is just going to scare her and impede her recovery."

"And so is your continued presence on her case," the husband and father stated. "Consider yourself removed or fired…or whatever the hell you want to call it. I do not want you coming within fifty yards of my wife, and you can bet your life on the fact that you will be hearing my lawyer just as soon as my family and I get back to San Francisco and have a chance to meet with him."

The slamming of the door as he left was the final form of punctuation upon his heated statement. Just when Ryan felt as if there might have been some light at the end of the tunnel, they had one more thing to deal with. Yes, his wife was alive and he was beyond thankful for that fact, but would she still be the woman he knew better than he knew himself and loved more the life itself after he told her about her surgery? Would she even still want to be that woman? As he made his way back towards the waiting room and his children knowing he needed to wake them with the news that their mother was alive and going to stay that way, he realized it felt as if he was drowning. Without Marissa at his side, battling through life's obstacles with him, Ryan knew there would be no preserver to be tossed his way. Instead, this was one battle, one struggle he would have to find his way out of alone, and that scared him more than anything else had in fifteen years.

"Hey you."

He had been so lost in his own thoughts, in his own fears, he had not realized she was awake, so, when his wife's soft, content voice filled the hospital room, Ryan nearly toppled out of his chair, his elbows which had been resting on the edge of her bed slipping and causing both his hands and head which had been leaning against his fisted hands to fall and bob in surprise. To that, she laughed, affectionately reaching her fingers out to brush his fallen blonde locks away of his eyes.

"What has you so tense," Marissa teased, but, as soon as his gaze lifted to meet hers, his concerned and apprehensive cobalt irises screaming of pain and regret, the happiness he had seen reflected in her own baby blues disappeared as quickly as he had noticed it. "Is it the baby?"

"No, no," the father of five rushed to assure her. "The baby's fine…better than fine; it's perfect with its ten little toes and ten little fingers. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it."

"Well then, can I see her?"

Smiling wistfully, he commented, "so you did know?"

"Of course I knew. Call it women's intuition or dismiss it as practice makes perfect, but, whatever you decide, I knew from day one that we were having a little girl, and now I want to meet her."

Ryan watched as her arm reached for the call button, but, before she had a chance to press it, his own digits reached out to grasp hers, holding her hand in his. "No, wait," he asked then changed his tone and directed, "you can't."

"I can't?"

He could hear the panic setting into her voice. "I said that the wrong way. You could see her now, there's nothing really stopping you…us, but I wanted to talk to you first," the husband and father admitted. "Plus, I just checked on her twenty minutes ago, and she was sleeping soundly, and you know what they say about a sleeping baby…"

"Don't wake them," Marissa finished for him. "Well, that's fine. We can talk, but," her face screwed up in confusion, "what do we need to talk about? You didn't go and name her some crazy name, did you," his wife asked, giggling, "and now you're afraid that I'm going to be mad at you."

"Actually, naming her has been the last thing on my mind," he confessed.

"Ryan," the nurse chastised him, scooting up in bed and gasping as a fresh wave of pain lanced its way through her form, "what the hell have you been doing all this time? I'm sorry that I fell asleep after I gave birth, but, come on, give me break. I just pushed out a whole person from a space no bigger than a grapefruit. Obviously you haven't been sleeping," she gestured towards his appearance, "and I know it's early morning now because the sun's coming up, so why doesn't our daughter have a name. You can at least tell me about her, can't you, what she looks like, how much she weighed, how tall she was?"

"She has your eyes," the father of five answered, hiding behind the palm of his right hand as he forcibly rubbed the stubble on his face, avoiding her piercing gaze and curious words, "sapphire blue with long, dark, thick lashes."

"That's a good start," she snorted, emotionally distancing herself from him, "but I want to know more."

He shrugged helplessly. "I can't tell you anything else." She went to pull her hand out of his grasp to again reach for the call button, but he tightened his grip and regained her attention. "It's not that I didn't want to know all those things you asked about," he admitted, "but things around here have been a little… on edge. To say the very least, I was more concerned about some other things than I was about the baby who I knew was healthy and being cared for in the nursery."

"Oh my god," the new mother blanched considerably. Scared and losing control of her emotions, she squeezed his hand and attempted to push the covers off her legs so she could get out of bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go to him. If something's wrong with Cooper…"

"Cooper's fine," Ryan instantly stated, gently pushing her back down so that she was resting, once again, in bed, "and, under absolutely no circumstances, can you try that again. Marissa," he sighed, reaching out to delicately wipe away the tears that had pooled in her deep, haunting orbs full of fear and dread, "it wasn't Cooper whom I was concerned about; it was you."

"Me," she questioned, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Why were you worried about me? I'm fine. Sure," she dismissed with a small, brave smile, "I'm in pain…more pain than I remember after giving birth to any of the other kids, but I was kind of expecting that seeing as though I'm forty-five and had no business having a baby at my age. The pain aside though," she reassured him, "there's nothing wrong with me. You're sweet though, to worry." She lifted herself from the mattress and attempted to lean across the expanse of the bed to kiss him, but, before she had moved half way there, she gave up, panted in agony, and collapsed exhausted. "Okay, so maybe you're going to have to be the one to kiss me, because I don't think I can do it right now."

Without saying a word, he did as she asked, standing up from the chair and bending over her as he let his lips whisper tenderly against hers. "I can do that," he murmured before embracing her again. He knew it was probably not the best time to be kissing his wife, but he needed to feel close to her for even a few, fleeting moments, and he hoped that the memory of their embrace would reassure her of his love and passion once he shared with her the truth about her surgery.

Once he was settled back into his chair, Ryan re-clasped their hands together and waited for her to open her eyes from their kiss so she could give him all of her attention. "I always worry about you," he shared, making the mother of his children smile, "but it was more than usual yesterday. During your labor, there were some complications. Like we knew would happen, you started hemorrhaging, and the hospital staff couldn't get it to stop."

"Did they have to give me a transfusion?"

"Yes," he answered, nodding his head at the same time while he spoke. "That's why you're probably feeling chilled and a little short of breath right now. You had a slight reaction to it."

"Well, that's not a big deal," the nurse chuckled, apparently amused by his, at that point, over-protective and seemingly paranoid behavior. "It's not as if it hasn't happened before. I'll be fine. We both know that."

"But there was something else," he blurted out, instantaneously wiping away her cheery grin.

"Did my body reject one of the transfusions," she asked, baffled by his quiet, almost regretful and apologetic behavior. "Was that why you were so worried?"

"No, that's not it," the business owner responded. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he closed his eyes to stem away the tears he felt filling his compassionate orbs that screamed of pity and sympathy. "The doctor couldn't get you to stop bleeding, so, without my permission and so he could save your life, they had to perform a hysterectomy."

The father of five visibly watched as the woman he loved disappeared, turning into herself and shutting down in an effort to push aside the intense, emotional pain she was feeling as a reaction to his bluntly stated words. Although it was exactly what Ryan thought would happen, his insight into his wife's mindset did not prepare him for the amount of torture he felt watching her suffer in silence. On instinct and without thinking about his actions or their consequences, he let go of her hand and reached out to pull her into his arms, moving, at the same time, to climb into the hospital bed with her, but, before he was even out of his chair, her head snapped around and she glared at him, screaming vehement words in his direction.

"Don't touch me," she ordered, shoving his suddenly lax and hesitant hands away. "I don't want you to touch me, not now, not…"

"Okay, I won't," he agreed quickly, because he couldn't stand to let her finish her statement. There was no way he would be able to make it through the next few hours if he had his wife's voice ringing through his mind as she told him to never touch her again. That was just an idea he couldn't even contemplate. Not touching Marissa was like not breathing for Ryan.

So, instead of touching her, instead of talking to her, and instead of comforting her, he just sat there and listened as the woman he loved more than anything else in the world cried herself to sleep, the joy she had felt about having a baby and the relief he had felt at the knowledge that she had lived through her surgery disappearing into the soft sounds of the hospital as the quiet shuffling of nurses' feet, the steady beeping of heart machines, and the tears of both sadness and release washed over them. It was definitely not how he had pictured his daughter's first day on earth, and it was certainly not how he had wanted to celebrate the life he and his wife had created together, but there was nothing Ryan could do to change anything. Once again, he was reminded just how insignificant and powerless he really was.

Several hours later after listening to Marissa reawake, recall his heartbreaking news, and then cry herself back to sleep again, Ryan exited her hospital room and came face to face with something…someone he had not been expecting to see. Garrett was standing before him, a look of compassion creating lines of stress across his still young face. Without a word, the father of five crossed the hall and took his oldest child in his arms, hugging him tightly. After several moments, they pulled away, neither embarrassed or attempting to conceal the few tears they had shed.

"What are you doing here? After I called early this morning to let you know your Mom was going to be okay, I thought…"

"Actually, I wasn't going to fly up, but then Susan woke up, yelled at me for still being at home, so I jumped in a cab, and, now, here I am."

Raising a doubtful brow, the business owner questioned his son, "your wife made you come? Have I stepped into some alternative universe?"

"I know," Garrett agreed, shaking his head in confusion. "I pretty much asked her the same thing, and it resulted in her throwing a pillow at my head."

"Well," the father of five mused, "she is nearing her third trimester. Maybe she just didn't want you around."

"No, she said that the man she married would want to be there for his mother, and, even though she knew she was selfish and spoiled most of the time, she would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to Mom when I wasn't there. She then went on to say that of all the people in our family, besides me, she felt the closest to Mom."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know," the architect agreed whole heartedly, shaking his head up and down at a fast pace to visibly display his concurrence. "It's crazy, but she said that it's the most real relationship she's ever had, that their bickering, and their sniping, and their dirty tricks are their way of communicating with each other. She says that all women get along that way with their mother-in-laws. So, here I am," he finished, gesturing vaguely to insinuate his presence, "with instructions to take care of my siblings so that you can focus on Mom. In fact, Susan even went as far as to insist that I bring Cooper, Aristan, and Loren back as soon as all three of them are ready to travel. She's getting our apartment ready for them to stay with us."

"I just…," Ryan stumbled upon his words, "I can't believe this, and, if I can't believe this, you know your Mom is never going to."

"I don't think that Susie is even doing this to score points," the twenty-five year old confessed. "I think she just really cares about Mom in her own way. Maybe there's hope for the two of them after all. Whatever the reason," he slung his arm around his Dad's shoulders and directed him towards the elevators, "let's get you something to eat. You look like death warmed over…twice."

"I'll eat," the older Atwood agreed, "but you're having something, too. If you're really going to take your brothers and sister home, you're going to need all the energy you can get."

"I know I haven't lived at home for quite a few years, but they're really that bad?"

"Nah, they're good kids really," the father of five answered, "but you're about to put a very grumpy Loren who is pissed off at the world on behalf of her mother and her brother in the same house as your very pregnant and hormonal wife. I'd bet everything I own that things are about to get pretty ugly pretty fast, and that, my friend," he teased, "is why you need to eat." Soberly quickly, Ryan regarded his son with a sentimental, affectionate expression on his face, "I'm really glad you're here."

"My family's here and they needed me," Garrett stated unrepentantly. "It's where I belong."

"I still can't believer you had a girl," Loren complained from her position at the end of her Mom's hospital bed. Ever the upbeat cheerleader, she had maintained a steady stream of conversation, albeit carrying it on all by herself, since she and her siblings had joined Ryan, Marissa, and the new baby ten minute earlier, but, with no one else willing to say anything, even she was finding it difficult to maintain her fake sense of cheer. "At least she won't pee on me when I change her diapers." The fifteen year old laughed at her own little joke, but no one else even cracked a smile.

Looking around the room, the husband and father had to wince at how unfamiliar their family dynamic seemed to be at the moment. Cooper, sullen and depressed, sat in his wheelchair, his entire leg in a cast and resting propped up in the air for he couldn't move it. He glowered at everyone and everything, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Aristan was not much better except, instead of showing absolutely no emotion, he was constantly fighting a losing battle to restrain his feelings. Ryan watched as tears of compassion and fear for Marissa filled his son's eyes, but, with his stubborn streak showing, the thirteen year old would always brush the liquid emotion away. Finally, there was Garrett, composed, observant, quiet Garrett, who stood in the corner by the window, there in case someone needed him but otherwise refusing to intrude. It was utterly unnerving.

Finally, as Loren ran out of things to say, the room descended into quiet, and everyone looked at everything but each other. The four older children had come into the room initially to meet their new sister and to say goodbye to their Mom, but their infant dinner was asleep and Marissa was attempting to blatantly ignored her children. Meeting his oldest son's gaze, Ryan shrugged, telling him without words that there was nothing they could do. So, Garrett ushered his teenage siblings out of the room and pushed Cooper's wheelchair, leaving the father of five with his newborn daughter and wife once again.

Neither of them said anything.

The minutes passed and turned into an hour. A nurse came in to take the baby back to the nursery, and, as she walked out of the room, he could see her shake her head in empathy. Marissa's eyes never wavered from their position watching the ceiling, and his never left their position watching her.

Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, he cleared his throat and spoke up. "Why don't we name the baby together right now," he suggested, putting a false sense of excitement into his tone. "After all, we have nothing else to do."

"I don't feel like it," Marissa dismissed him, rolling over in bed to face the opposite direction. "You do it…alone. I want to be by myself."

Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Ryan stood up from his chair and made his way back into the hospital hallway as she asked of him, leaving his wife to her own self induced isolation, terror, and grief. As he heard the door close behind him and felt the small gust of wind that accompanied the sound, he knew that never before had he felt so distanced from the woman he loved. There was a wider gulf separating them after fifteen years of marriage and three children together than there was the day they met, and there was nothing he could do to bring them closer. Would he ever not feel helpless again?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

He had owned the business for less than a year, and, already, it was in its worst shape ever. Much to his chagrin, every single job site was behind. Supply orders were backed up, men had unexpectedly quit, leaving them short staffed, and they had more money going out than they had coming in. Ryan felt like a failure. He felt as if he had failed his employees, and, more importantly, he felt as if he had failed his family, especially his wife, and that was a feeling he did not handle very well.

After spending nearly a week and half in Canada as Marissa recovered from her surgery enough to travel home, the family had somewhat settled into their new dynamic, but it felt forced, and no one was happy. Loren and Aristan were ghosts of their former selves and had to be convinced to return home. Surprising Ryan, they had wanted to remain at Garrett's, enjoying the fact that, at their brother's, they knew exactly where they stood: together they worked to annoy Susan and harass Garrett, all efforts made in jest. But, at home, with their parents, things were not as cut and dry.

He was running ragged as he tried to pick up the pieces of his professional life while still balancing his personal, the baby simply slept, ate, and slept some more, so she was neither a comfort nor a worry to the kids, and Marissa avoided everyone except their infant daughter, withdrawing into herself, hiding from both her fear and the face of reality, and masking her pain with indifference. Hell, when the father of five thought about it, he really didn't blame his two teenage children for not wanting to be at home, but, nevertheless, home was where they belonged, and, if they all kept running away from their issues and hiding, then nothing would be solved or fixed. And that was a thought Ryan just could not even entertain.

"Hey," the weary forty-five year old called out as he pushed open his front door and walked into a dark and silent foyer. "I'm home." There was no response. "Is anyone here?"

Without an answer to his question, Ryan started wandering around the house, unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt and the collar while searching for his family. Just as the entrance was dark and empty, so were the dining, living, and family rooms. "Hello," he called out again, but, still, nothing was said in return. Accepting that either everyone was already in bed, a rare feat in and of itself at eight o'clock at night, even on a weekday, or that they were upstairs and all busy, he proceeded to make his way into his study, figuring that, if no one needed him at the present moment, he would try to get some more work done before going to bed. Although he hadn't eaten since that morning when he had hastily swallowed a glass of orange juice and a couple mini chocolate chip muffins, the business owner was too distracted by the mess that was his life for hunger to register upon his tired, over-stressed mind.

"Oh," he commented upon seeing two very awake and very depressed looking individuals in his office upon his rather preoccupied arrival to the room. "I didn't realize… Why didn't you guys say anything when I called out?"

Loren shrugged her shoulders, still not looking up at him, before replying. "Didn't feel like it."

Undaunted, the father of five attempted to engage his children in conversation again. "So, what are you up to?"

"Cards."

That time it had been Aristan to give him an apathetic answer, fairly dismissing him with his thinly veiled tone of annoyance and indifference.

"What's your Mom doing?"

The two teenagers looked up from their game, stared at each other as if challenging the other one in a battle of wills, and then, finally, after Loren looked back down at her hand, Ryan's thirteen year old son replied, "she's taking care of Tyler."

Exasperated, he let out a long, bitter sigh. "Can you at least tell me where she is?"

"Upstairs," the quiet and somber siblings responded. This time they both answered, but hearing two robotic, emotionless answers at once was much worse than just one.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," Ryan tossed over his shoulder as he left the room.

If the two high school students could detect his sarcasm which hid a wide streak of hurt and injury, they didn't show it. So, dolefully, the husband and father made his way back through his house, retracing his former steps until he was, once again, standing in his gloomy foyer. Taking a bracing breath, he lifted his right arm up to hold onto the railing, both to steady his exhausted form and to give his psyche some much needed strength. Squeezing the banister, he hauled himself up to the first riser and, somehow, found the strength to make his way up the entire staircase, pausing at the top to collect his thoughts before going into the nursery. However, when he got there, it was empty, so, listening carefully, he waited to hear the sounds of his wife and newborn daughter, finally determining that they were in the bathroom he shared with Marissa. It was bath time, something he had always enjoyed ever since Loren was first born.

"This…the two of you together like this…is the best thing I've seen all day long." Taking his wife's silence as a willingness to listen, the forty-five year old let his back rest against the wall and slid down so that he could sit on the floor, talk to the mother of his children, and watch her as she bathed their two week old daughter, Tyler McQueen, a name he had picked out to make the woman he loved laugh, but, instead, she had simply agreed with a blasé nod of her head. He was utterly unaware of the dust and grime he was getting all over the pristine, tile floors.

Sighing, he explained his fatigued mood. "Would it be too much to ask for just one thing to go right at work?" Because it was a rhetorical question, Ryan never noticed that the mother of his children was not particularly listening to what he had to say, so he continued. "It's after labor disputes, supply issues, and having to deal with disgruntled clients for thirteen hours straight that I start to wonder if I really should have bought the business. It was so much easier when I just had to go to work, do what I was told, and then come home to my family, but then I consider the other side of the issue. If I hadn't of bought the business, who knows who my boss would be right now, and, if nothing else, by being in charge, I can make my own schedule, and we'll be able to retire sooner rather than later. I just…," he paused, searching his mind for exactly what he wanted to say, "I just wish that it wasn't everything all at once, you know? It'll be nice when things get back to normal around here." When Marissa didn't say anything, he amended his statement by adding, "not that little Tyler wasn't worth it, because she was. Hell, she's worth everything."

"Go eat dinner," his wife instructed him without sparing a glance in his direction. Pushing herself up off the edge of the tub, she reached for the soft, terrycloth towel reserved for their daughter. "It's takeout. I burnt the casserole I was making by accidentally falling asleep. Guess I was more worn out than I thought I was after staying up all last night with Tyler."

"I never heard her cry on the monitor."

"It's alright," Marissa accepted his silent apology and attempted to relieve him of his concern at the same time. "You're the only one working right now. The least I could do is take care of the baby. Dinner's in the fridge."

And, with that, she walked out of the room, moved down the hallway, and disappeared into the nursery to dress, feed, and rock their newborn to sleep, and, just like that, he had been dismissed by the one person who had never treated him that way.

Later that night, Ryan was in bed, flipping through the hundreds of TV channels they had thanks to the satellite dish perched high up on their roof but not seeing a single image, waiting, rather impatiently, for his wife to join him so he could go to sleep, but, when she came into the room, she simply ignored him, passed through into the bathroom, and began her nightly bedtime routine of showering, putting on her pajamas, and brushing her teeth. By the time the mother of his children returned from the steam filled ensuite, he was wide awake, worried about her because he could have sworn he heard her crying while she had been in the shower. For some reason though, he couldn't ask her, so, instead, he just continued to observe her.

He watched as she sifted through her drawers looking for something to put on, bypassing her nightgowns, her baggy shorts and t-shirts, even the few pairs of boxers and wifebeaters she had purloined from him over the years only to choose a flannel set of pajamas. Although it was just April, Northern California really never got a reprieve from the heat like the more temperate areas of the country. There was no need for such warm sleeping attire, but Ryan figured it was less about the physical and more about the emotional; the figure hiding pants and long sleeve combination giving Marissa a sense of security. He just wished he could give that to her.

At the same time that she climbed into her side of the bed, he reached across to his nightstand and turned his lamp off, blanketing their master bedroom in darkness. Like was his customary habit, he moved to take her in his arms, to hold her against him while they slept, but, as soon as his fingers brushed against her side, she froze, pulled away, and scooted over so that she was resting on the very edge of their bed.

"Marissa?"

"I'm still sore," she whispered, the soft tone of her voice muffled even more by her feather pillow.

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I didn't even think about…"

"I know," she reassured him. "It's okay. Goodnight."

"Night," the father of five returned, too tired to really listen to the emotions pooling underneath his wife's seemingly unimportant words. However, if he had paid closer attention, he would have been able to tell that she wasn't turning away from him out of pain, or anger, or even out of a desire to hurt him as much as she was herself hurting. In reality, her actions stemmed from a fear of being turned away, so, instead of waiting for her husband to pull away from her, physically disgusted by what she now considered herself to be, a shell of her former self and no longer a woman, she beat him to the punch, eliminating his chance of hurting her as a form of self preservation.

If only he knew that's what she was doing.

It was less than two hours later when a shrill shriek from the baby monitor woke Ryan from a deep, restless sleep. Springing up straight out of bed, he glanced to his left to look at the alarm clock, noticing that it was 12:14, time for the illustrious midnight feeding all new parents claimed to dread but secretly enjoyed.

"Go back to sleep," he murmured to his wife, turning to kiss her cheek before moving out of bed, but, when he looked at Marissa's side of the bed, she wasn't there. Curious, he felt the sheets where her body should have just been. They were cool to the touch. Sighing, he shook his head, already knowing the answer to his unvoiced question but not wanting to admit it.

With quick, compact steps, he left their bedroom behind and made the trek down the hall to the nursery, pushing open the partially closed wooden door to peer into the softly illuminated space, the whimsical nightlight sitting on Tyler's dresser casting a warm glow throughout the pastel hued room. And there, in the corner sitting in the antique rocker they had used with both Loren and Aristan, sat Marissa, their content daughter in his wife's arms drinking from her little four ounce bottle. Because of the blood transfusions, Marissa had not been able to breast feed.

Letting his gaze flicker away from his wife and child, Ryan noticed that there was a pallet made up on the floor beside the basinet, a pallet that had obviously been slept in, and he knew that if he went and touched those sheets he would find them warm. Since they had gotten home from Vancouver, he had been too distracted and then exhausted from both work and getting the ball rolling on their lawsuit against the doctor who had been in charge of Marissa's case that, by the time his head hit the pillow at night, he was almost immediately asleep and not easily roused. Accordingly, he had no idea how many nights the mother of his children had waited before crawling out of their bed to hide from him in their daughter's nursery.

"What the hell is going on," he demanded to know, startling Marissa and making Tyler squirm in surprise.

She immediately blushed and moved her tear filled blue gaze away from his before answering. "I'm sorry. I tried to calm her down before she could wake you."

"For Christ's sake, Marissa, when have I cared about sharing our parenting duties? Never," he replied before she had a chance, "so I don't see why you all of a sudden think you need to do everything where the baby is concerned. I am her father, and I can help out."

"I know you can."

"But that's not what I was asking about," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "What I want to know is why you are sleeping on a blow up mattress?" The father of five couldn't help the slight edge that entered his voice nor the fact that his volume increased with every word he yelled. "Or are you just that mad at me that you can't handle the idea of sharing a bed with me?"

"I'm not mad at you," Marissa practically pleaded for him to understand. Fully crying, she pressed, "You've just been working so hard lately, trying to take care of everyone, that I thought the least I could do was make sure Tyler didn't wake you at night. Please, Ryan," she begged, "don't be like this."

"Get up," he ordered, striding confidently across the room and holding out his arms for her to put the newborn in them. "Go back to bed…our bed, and I'll finish in here."

Shaking her head in argument, she replied, "no." Despite the nervous, almost frightened tone, he could hear the finality in that one word.

"Come on, you're running yourself ragged. It's been only two weeks since you've given birth, and I think you weigh less already then you did before we conceived Tyler. There are dark circles under your eyes, you don't smile, and you said so yourself that you fell asleep this afternoon while cooking dinner. If nothing else, Marissa," he tried to persuade her, "you have to take care of yourself, and not being able to stay awake while you wait for a casserole to finish baking, that's not a good sign. Now, up," the business owner directed her, even going so far as to reach out and carefully lift her from the chair and help her to her feet. "I'll take over."

"Just…get away from me," she screamed, pushing his hands off of her. "I don't want your help; I don't need it." Losing the anger from her voice only to replace it with desperation, she explained, "this is the one thing, the only thing I can still do. Please, Ryan, please don't take this away from me, too."

"Honey, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I can't be the wife you deserve, I'm not there for Loren and Aristan the way I once was, the idea of going back to work and taking care of women who are pregnant makes me want to break down and simply cry, so I can't financially participate in our lives anymore, and I can't even fucking make my husband dinner so that when he comes home at night there's a warm meal waiting for him. The only thing I can do," she screamed, making the baby cry, is take care of Tyler, so that's what I'm going to do, and you can't stop me. Please, Ryan, please," Marissa beseeched, "leave me with this one thing."

Before he could reply, a shy voice from behind them spoke up. "Dad?"

He turned around to find both of his teenage children watching them closely. "It's alright," he assured him, nodding his head back towards their rooms. "Just go back to bed. We'll see you in the morning." Without a word, they did as he asked, leaving him alone with Marissa and the baby once again. "You can take care of Tyler," he promised her, wrapping a comforting arm around her quivering shoulders, "but come back to bed. She can sleep between us tonight, okay?"

"Alright," the mother of his children agreed readily, hiccupping. Although she tensed when he first touched her, she eventually relaxed into his embrace and let him support her as they walked back to their room.

"And we're going to talk about this tomorrow night when I get home from work," Ryan said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"From work," she questioned, pulling away from him without any warning, "but what about my doctor's appointment tomorrow. You're still coming with me, right; you didn't forget?"

"Of course not," he covered smoothly, surprising himself with how easily the lie came. With everything he had been dealing with since they had gotten back home, her appointment had slipped his mind. "I just want you to sleep in as late as possible in the morning, because you need some rest, sweetheart. We'll talk tomorrow night…when we're in bed _together_."

"Okay," Marissa consented.

At the same time, they climbed into bed, and he sat up against his pillows as he watched her finish feeding their newborn daughter, burp her, and then reposition so that the baby was resting right up against her side, her body cocooned around her in a gesture of comfort and protection. Once they were settled, he laid down. Waiting until he heard the quiet sounds of his wife's slumbering breaths, Ryan reached his hand out and gently covered that of the woman he loved. She might not want him touching her yet, but it was something he needed, and he was reassured that eventually everything would be alright when she, subconsciously in her sleep, joined their fingers together and squeezed his hand. It was a small step but at least they were, once again, moving forward instead of backwards.

"I'm sorry for making you both wait so long, but after everything that has happened, I want to make sure that Marissa is perfectly healthy before I send her home with a clean bill of health. I know this must be an inconvenience both with work and Tyler…"

"No, it's fine," Ryan assured the physician. "Work is just that; it's not important."

"And Susan's watching the baby," his wife added. "It's good practice for when my grandson or granddaughter arrives."

"Are we talking about the same Susan you recommended natural child birth to out of spite," Patricia asked, laughing. She didn't see the father of five's warning nod as if advising her not to say anything.

"My daughter-in-law might not be perfect, but she is, if nothing else, a perfectionist, and she would never let me accuse her of not taking good care of Tyler. After all," the new mother snapped, "that would give me something to use again her."

The OB-GYN and the business owner shared confused but hesitantly accepting glances. Obviously, Marissa's relationship with her son's wife had entered a new, even more perplexing stage. However, they let the subject drop. It was safer that way for everyone involved.

"Okay then, as soon as the blood results come back and I have a chance to look at them, you'll be free to go. It's really just a precaution. Other than the obvious aches and pains though, how have you been feeling?"

"Lonely," the one time nurse answered slowly, really thinking about her response, "and afraid, sometimes guilty, too."

"I meant physically, but those are very telling emotions. You do know, don't you," Patricia asked, "what they probably mean?"

"Yes."

"Wait," Ryan interrupted the two women. "Fill me in here. Are those feelings not normal?"

"Let me ask you this," the doctor turned to him. "Do you think that your wife has been acting the same as she did the previous two times you've been with her after she gave birth?"

"Well," he fidgeted in his seat, avoiding Marissa's curious gaze, "not really, but everything about her labor, hell our whole trip to Canada, was pretty intense. I just figured everything combined together kind of heightened her emotions."

"I'm depressed, Ryan," the mother of his children spoke up, putting him out of his bumbling misery. "I'm suffering from post-partum depression."

"And it's very understandable, because, as you pointed out," the OB-GYN filled in, "she went through a very traumatic experience. We'll just monitor her closely and make sure that these feelings don't progress into something more. Because you understand the illness," she said to Marissa, "you'll be able to watch yourself for symptoms, and, if you're unsure, ask your husband what he thinks. We'll get you through this. But back to what I was getting to before. Any physical complaints?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," his wife stated. "Sore muscles, pain in my abdominal area, fatigue."

"She's also been losing a lot of weight at a really rapid pace," he added, capturing the physician's full attention. "She's already at a lower weight than she was before she got pregnant, and she has no appetite." Noticing Patricia's furrowed brow, he started to become worried. "Other than for the obvious reasons, is that bad?"

"It's probably nothing," the older woman reassured them both, "but that's why I ordered these blood tests, to make sure. It is possible for viral infections to be passed through blood transfusions, but..."

"But the risk of infections is very rare," Marissa spoke up, interrupting her friend. "The FDA's regulations on collecting, testing, storing, and using blood have pretty much eliminated the risk of infection."

"This is true," Patricia agreed with her patient. Just then, there was a knock on the door. A nurse came in with the blood results, handed them to the doctor, and then left again. While opening the folder and going over the information, the OB-GYN continued talking. "However, even in a foreign country as medically advanced as Canada, the risk of infection is increased, so we're just doing everything by the book here just to be on the safe side."

As they waited for the doctor to reassure them that nothing was wrong, Ryan watched as the older woman's face went from confident and pleasant to nervous to downright pale with sympathy and pity. "What, what is it," he demanded, automatically reaching his hand out to hold his wife's, grasping it in the hopes of comforting her. "Just tell us, Pat. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"Have you ever tested positive before for Hepatitis C?"

"What, no, of course not," Marissa dismissed, her eyes wide with panic. "If anyone should already know that, it's you. After all, you are my doctor. Why do you ask?"

"Because there are hepatitis C antibodies in your blood results," the physician stated, tossing the folder aside and sighing heavily, "and, because this is the first time we've ever seen a sign of the virus in any of your tests, that means you were just recently exposed. I'm so sorry."

"So you're saying that my wife is sick because some doctor didn't follow medical procedure and perform a cesarean like he was supposed to, that, not only did he risk her life by making her give birth, but he also gave her a disease she's going to have to fight for the rest of her life," he went ballistic, standing up abruptly from his chair to pace the small length of the office like a caged animal, his left hand distractedly running through his messy hair and gripping it tightly in an effort to curb his anger.

"It might not be permanent, Ryan," Patricia attempted to calm him. "Many people only have hepatitis C for a short period of time before getting better."

"But others fight the disease for the rest of their lives?"

"Please, sit back down," she pleaded with him, both for her own benefit but mainly because she noticed her patient was about to lose control, "and let me give you all the facts before you react." After he had done what she asked, she pressed on. "Yes, hepatitis C is a serious infection, and, yes, it can cause permanent liver damage as well as cirrhosis, liver cancer, and liver failure, but many people manage the disease and go on to live full and healthy lives. In fact, some people never even detect that they're sick. However, Marissa is already displaying some of the symptoms. Because of this, I'm going to monitor her very closely. If things progress and get worse, there are medications we can consider, but we caught this early, extremely early, and there is absolutely no way that there has been any lasting damage done already. It will be important for you to take care of yourself," she instructed Marissa. "You're going to have to exercise regularly and maintain a healthy diet. I can work with you on this. Obviously, you'll need to avoid alcohol and illegal drugs, but I'm not really concerned about that, and we'll have to watch which medications you're prescribed in the future, but, other than that, there is no reason why anyone will even have to know that you're sick. In fact, after a few years, you might forget yourself…if this doesn't go away on its own."

"What about sex," his wife spoke up. He was surprised to see that she blushed when asking the question and that she avoided his eyes. Why, he didn't know. "Will Ryan be putting himself in danger by being with me?"

"Well, we…doctors…actually don't know the answer to that. If there is a risk though of getting the virus through sexual contact, it's minimal."

"That's just perfect," Marissa exploded, standing up rapidly and moving about to gather her things. "So, not only am I sexually unattractive to my husband now, but, even if by some miracle he does someday want to make love to me again, he might be putting his life in danger!"

"I understand that you're angry," Patricia tried to placate her, but it didn't work.

"You're damn right I'm angry," the mother of his children screamed, throwing her purse across the room only to watch it hit a wall and have its contents spill onto the floor. "I'm angry at the person whose blood is flowing through my body right now, whose blood saved me, because they did something stupid like share a needle with another junkie. I'm angry at the incompetent doctor who didn't monitor me close enough when I was in labor so that I had to give birth and need that transfusion in the first place. I'm angry at the catcher who collided with Cooper at his baseball, injuring my son and making me go into labor in the process. I'm angry at Cooper for making it onto a Canadian team and, in a way, forcing me to travel out of the country when I was eight months pregnant. I'm angry at you for not forbidding me from leaving the city, I'm angry at Ryan for giving in to me when I insisted that we go to Vancouver, but, most of all, I'm furious with myself for getting pregnant in the first place. Do I love my daughter, of course I do, but look at what my life has become simply because I took advantage of my age and the fact that my body was starting to change. I'm a forty-five year old joke, a freak! Step right up and look at the five time mother who has children raging in age from twenty-five to two weeks, who is expecting her first grandchild in three months, and who is now technically not even a woman!"

Shocked by her patient's outburst, Patricia stared at the younger mother for several moments, blinking rapidly, before she stood up and made her way towards the door. "I think I should give the two of you a few minutes to talk…in private."

"Don't bother," Marissa snapped. In a matter of seconds her rage turned to absolute desperate misery. "I can't be here any longer," she sobbed, pushing past her OB-GYN and running out the door.

Ignoring the doctor, Ryan ran after his wife. "Marissa, wait," he called after her. Seeing the mother of his children pause, then stop, and then finally turn around to look at him, he felt his strength become bolstered. However, he still had no idea what to say to the woman who meant everything to him. "I love you," he finally admitted, going for the most simple and honest thing he could think of.

But she didn't return his sentiment. Instead, she just cried harder, pulled away from him, and asked, "why," before fully turning around and leaving him standing there with his arms outstretched towards her.

And, just like that, he knew.

He was losing her.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

As he slid into his seat across from his oldest son, Ryan felt a ghost of a smile warm his face for the first time in days. It was two months since they had returned home from the hospital, Tyler was adjusting surprisingly well and was already practically sleeping through the night, and Marissa, despite the odds stacked against her, was physically healing well, but, instead of feeling as if his life was improving, it felt as if everything was just getting steadily worse. No one was happy, least of all him.

"This was a pleasant surprise," he greeted Garrett as he joined him at their outdoor patio table. "It's been too long since we've had lunch together. I really needed this."

The architect chuckled, never once looking up from his menu. "I needed a meal that wasn't a close relative to a science experiment, so it seems we both lucked out."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Susan's got it into her head that if she's going to be a good mom to our kid, then she's going to have to learn how to cook. Morning, noon, night, she's always shoving her culinary attempts in front of me and demanding that I try them and give her my honest opinion. So," he grimaced, screwing up his face in disgust, "I eat them, throw up later when she's napping, and then raid the secret stash of junk food I keep in the filing cabinet I have in my home office. Hell," he sighed in exasperation, "I can't even escape her during the day when I'm at work, because she brings me lunch, so, today, I used you as an excuse and told her she couldn't meet me."

"If the result of your hiding from your wife is me getting to spend time with my son," Ryan replied, "then sign me up for duty everyday."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So," the father of five asked as he took a drink from the glass of water already at the table waiting for him, "what brought on this desire to cook?"

"Mom," Garrett answered with a roll of his eyes. "Susie is determined that Mom will never show her up in the mothering department, and so, because Mom can cook, Susan now has to as well."

"You know, the longer they know each other, the weirder I think their relationship gets."

"Actually," the twenty-five year stated, "I think I figured it out. On the service, they're competitive, distrustful, and rude to each other, but I think that's just a convenient cover up for the underlying respect and admiration that my wife feels for Mom and the protective, almost mentoring role Mom takes on towards Susan. It's almost as if they dislike each other in public for appearance's sake, because they both know that's what everyone expects from them."

"Yeah, but, when they first met, your Mom really hated her."

"Oh, I know, but that was because she felt as if Susan was going to take me away from her, but, now that the lines have been drawn, neither of them are willing to surrender the fight, so, instead of just admitting that they really don't mind each other, they pretend to fight when underneath all the snippy remarks and devious plotting they really do care for one another. If nothing else," Garrett laughed, motioning towards the waitress to let her know they were ready to order, "it should keep family get-togethers interesting."

The two men ordered their lunches and waited for their server to leave before continuing their conversation.

"Well, I don't think we'll have to worry about them spending too much time together in the immediate future," Ryan announced, leaning back in his seat and relaxing his shoulders to almost a dejected posture.

"Why? Is Mom still refusing to speak to anyone besides you and us kids?"

"Pretty much." Rubbing a work worn hand across his haggard face, the business owner roughly expelled a harsh breath. "She'll talk to Pat at her doctor appointments and occasionally the two of them talk on the phone, but, other than that, she basically stays in the house except for when she has to run out for groceries or to pick up the dry cleaning. Her boss called the other day and asked her about when she wants to go back to work, and, without discussing it with me at all, she just quit."

Slightly defensive on his Mother's behalf, Garrett questioned, "you're not mad about that, are you?"

"Of course not. I've wanted her to quit working now for quite some time. We don't need the money, and she runs herself ragged. With everything that's happened since last summer, it's probably a good thing that she's not going to be working, but it worries me that she gave it all up that easily. Three months ago I would have had to tie her up and practically brainwash her into quitting, but, without even a second's thought, she threw her whole career away."

"It's like she's giving up, like she doesn't care anymore," the architect realized, frowning and sympathizing with his father.

"Exactly."

"Does she show interest in anything?"

"Not really," the older man stated miserably. "It's not as if she doesn't care or that she's not as kind and compassionate as she used to be," he struggled for the right words to explain his wife's behavior. "It's kind of like she's sleepwalking through life now. She's aware of what's going on around her and what she's doing, feeling, and thinking, but nothing permeates this protective wall she's built around herself."

"Maybe you just need to spend some one on one time with her," the twenty-five year old suggested helpfully. "If there's no one and nothing around to distract her attention, maybe you'll be able to really talk to her, to wake her up."

"What exactly are you proposing?" With a curious, hopeful quirk to his brows, Ryan observed his son and watched him squirm slightly in his seat as embarrassment tinged his tan cheeks a light shade of red.

"Well, it's not as if anything's going to happen between Susan and I at this point, so…"

"Third trimester drought?" Almost disbelievingly, Ryan felt himself laughing. Although the gesture was somewhat unfamiliar to his life at that point, it felt good to feel amusement again.

"It's dryer than the Sahara during a famine," his son bemoaned, closing his eyes momentarily out of desperation and misery.

"I doubt you really want to know this, but, perhaps, it might make you feel better," the father of five offered. "Your dry spell can't be as long as mine."

"Dad, come on," Garrett begged in a teasing manner. "This is the first real meal I've had in weeks. Please don't ruin it."

"Alright, alright," the business owner chuckled. "But back to what you were getting at before, what's this idea of yours?"

"Susie and I will take the kids for you tonight. I'll call her from work and let her know we're having company so, to give her a break, I'll offer to pick up takeout."

"Aristan and Loren will appreciate that gesture, I'm sure."

"And we'll just all hang out together. It'll be good practice for Susan and I to take care of Tyler, and, hell, maybe we'll even be able to get Cooper to come out of the cave he considers his apartment and socialize a little bit. In the meantime, you and Mom should just spend some time with each other and try to reconnect."

"I really appreciate this," Ryan told his son, his bright blue eyes shining with gratitude. "But don't get your hopes up concerning Cooper. I don't know if he told you yet, but he met with his doctors yesterday, and, despite the fact that his surgery went well and he will be able to walk, albeit with a slight limp, he'll never play sports professionally again."

"So, what's he going to do?"

"I honestly don't know," the older man answered, absentmindedly running his hands through his shaggy hair. "We, your Mother and I, need to talk to him about his options, but, at this point, I can barely think ahead a single day let alone help your brother plan his foreseeable future."

"Plus," Garrett pointed out, "you have Mom to worry about, too." His father nodded his head. "Let me think about Cooper this afternoon at work. I have a slow day ahead of me, so I should have some free time, and, if he does come over tonight, I'll find a way to speak to him alone, offer my help and encouragement."

Just then, their food arrived, but, before they ate, Ryan had to say one last thing. "You're a good kid, do you know that?" Without letting his son answer, he pressed, "and you're going to make one hell of a Dad, too. I'm proud of you."

The two men shared an understanding look. "What can I say," the architect joked, his voice filled with underlying emotion, "I had the best role model a guy could ask for."

Without another word, they went back to their meal. After all, nothing else, at that point, needed to be said.

It had taken some fine maneuvering on Ryan's part to get the evening organized. For one, Marissa rarely left the house, so he had to think up a plausible excuse for her to leave him there while she went out, not only so he could set up the surprises he had purchased but also to give Garrett an opportunity to stop by and pick up the kids. Secondly, he didn't want her to have to run errands when she went out; instead, he wanted to do something for her, something relaxing and soothing to show her just how much he cared. So, after he left his lunch with his oldest son, he called his secretary and had her messenger over a gift certificate to a spa for his wife, praying that she would take him up on his offer. By the time he arrived home, there was a note telling him that she would be back that evening and, while she was gone that afternoon, Loren was to make dinner and Aristan was to watch Tyler. Little did she know…

At seven o'clock on the dot, he heard the front door open, alerting him to the fact that Marissa was home, but she never called out her presence, never asked loudly about the kids, and she didn't even look up from her feet to gaze about the entry, missing the note and bouquet of flowers, a mixture of bright and cheerful blooms he had selected himself, that were waiting for her on the steps. However, before she could disappear into the kitchen where she was headed, he stepped out from the shadows where he had been hiding watching her.

"How was your massage?"

"It was nice," she answered, her tone completely neutral. "Thank you."

Despite his best intentions, he felt his shoulders slump slightly at the sound of her apathy, and he found himself wondering if she had even gone to the spa. Knowing of her lack of interest in anything social, Ryan could imagine her leaving the house with the gift certificate in hand to appease him but driving to the park and sitting there until her appointment was over, wallowing in her dark thoughts and fears. At the thought that even the fresh air would be better for her than remaining in the house all day with only their infant to keep her company, he knew that his plans to show her just how much he loved her were beyond necessary. He only hoped they weren't too late.

Snapping him from his thoughts, she queried, "where are the kids?"

"Garrett and Susan are watching them tonight. We have the whole house to ourselves." She didn't say anything, but he could see her brow furrow. Moving down the stairs slowly, never once taking his gaze off of hers out of fear that she would bolt like a scared rabbit, he finally reached the final step and held his hand out for her to take hold of. "Dinner's upstairs," the father of five explained. "I picked up all your favorites, so I hope you're hungry."

"Not really."

Swallowing his disappointment, he shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "That's okay. Will you sit with me though while I eat, keep my company?"

Marissa simply nodded her head yes before slipping past him to ascend the stairs. In a moment of weakness, her tear filled blue eyes swung up to meet his, and he could see the panic building in her wide, expressive, sapphire orbs, further disheartening him. Although she didn't take his hand though, he took a small bit of comfort in the fact that she was agreeing to join him, no matter how hesitant she was to do so. He would simply have to take his victories where he could get them.

Silently, they moved together, Ryan only a step behind her, but, when they entered their bedroom, his wife's forward momentum ceased and she froze in place. The windows were open to allow in the fresh night air, and, as the breeze caught on the flowers he had arranged throughout the room, the soft scent of the tropics caressed them. To complete the relaxing, romantic atmosphere, he had forgone lights and used candles instead, scattering the votives around the large space. He had even gone to the store and purchased her a new piece of lingerie, and the crisp, mint green, silk slip was out resting on the bed, an invitation for her to put it on while they spent time together.

However, instead of the appreciation he had been expecting, Marissa turned to him, her hurt displayed by the barely held back tears from a moment before coursing down her pale cheeks. "What…," she whispered, unsure of what to say or how to express what she was feeling. Swallowing several times, she groaned in frustration at herself, clenched her fist together, and closed her eyes before continuing, her voice almost too cracked and vulnerable to hear. "What is this?"

"I wanted to get you something that would make you feel beautiful when you wore it." Taking her hands, he led her into the room and towards the bed. "Because of Tyler and everything that's happened, you and I haven't been able to spend any alone time together, and I just wanted you to know that I love you. For no other reason than wanting to be with you, I wanted to make this night special; I wanted to help you feel special again."

When she returned his declaration of love, murmuring the four words with as much honesty and sincerity as she could muster, the business owner started to have faith in his own actions, started to believe that he had done the right thing by organizing a romantic evening just for the two of them, but his hopes came crashing down when she let out a harsh sob, pulled her hands away from his, and collapsed onto the bed, crying while she rushed to accuse him.

"I know you're trying to make me feel better, and, although I appreciate it, I don't want your pity."

"Marissa, what are you talking about?" Bewildered, he sank down beside her on the bed. "I don't pity…"

"Yes, you do," she screamed, scrambling as far away from him as she could get and going to stand in the opposite corner of the room. With her arms folded protectively around her abdomen, she pressed on. "You might still love me, but there's no possible way that you're still in love with me. How could you be?" When he went to reassure her, she wouldn't let him interrupt, and, instead, a cascading waterfall of words spilled forth from her quivering mouth. "The reasons don't matter, because they're not going to change how you feel. I'm not the woman you married, and it's not your fault that you want her and not the shell that's left behind. And you can tell me over and over again that I'm wrong, but you proved that I'm right this evening."

Standing, he stomped towards her, anger masking his hurt and concern. "How the hell did I do that?"

"Look at the lingerie you bought me," the former nurse gestured wildly back towards the bed. "A year ago you would have come home with the skimpiest piece of lace you could find, and today you buy me a slip that comes down to mid-thigh." Throwing her hands up in the air in a sign of frustration, she proclaimed, "that pretty much says it all, doesn't it, Ryan? You're just as much repulsed by my body as I am!"

"Oh for Christ's sake, I thought it was pretty, and I wanted to see you in it! Is it more concealing than some of the lingerie I bought you in the past, yes, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You just had major surgery two months ago, and I wasn't sure if you would want something that would show your scars. Sue me!"

"Stop projecting your own disgust onto me," she countered wildly, making absolutely no sense to the father of five, "and just admit that it's you who is repulsed by the scars!"

"Well, how the hell would I know how I feel about them since you haven't let me see you dressed in anything less than pants and a t-shirt since you gave birth!"

And just like that, Marissa's fury was replaced with melancholy. "I've been scared."

"I know you have been," he soothed, moving to take her in his arms, but she pulled away from him and went to stand in front of the windows that looked out onto their backyard. Undeterred, he followed until he was positioned directly behind her. Lifting his arms, he started to place his hands on her shoulders but second guessed himself and let his arms fall back down to their sides. "And I honestly wasn't expecting anything to happen tonight either. I got your favorite dinner, flowers, and the lingerie simply because I wanted to make you feel better about yourself. I know you've been having a hard time with everything since Tyler was born, and, yes, I do want to be with you but not until you're ready. There's one last surprise," he told her before leaving her alone for a moment to get something off his nightstand. Walking back towards her, he held the envelope out and waited for her to open it. Once she did, he started to explain, "I exchanged our tickets for England today and booked another flight in two weeks. I figured if anyone deserved a real vacation right now, it would be you."

"We can't go."

Taking the tickets back when she shoved them in his hands, he stared at her momentarily before demanding to know, "why not?"

"Tyler's too young for me to leave her."

"She'll be almost three months old by the time our trip is scheduled for, and Garrett and Susan already said they would like to spend more time with her to practice for their own baby."

"And what about Garrett and Susan," she snapped, glaring at him. "She's due in July. I can't leave her when she's so close to her due date. What if she goes into premature labor? Can you honestly tell me that her mother would know how to help her, how to keep her calm, how to prepare her for taking care of a pre-term baby? Absolutely not, Ryan! They need me here with them, close by, in case anything happens."

"She's having a normal pregnancy," he argued, making his case. "There haven't been any complications, and she's expected to go full term." Scoffing, he dismissed, "besides, you act as if you're the only one who will be able to help her if there is an emergency. You're not the only medical professional in San Francisco, you know, especially since you quit your job."

"And don't forget about our son who just yesterday found out that he'll never again be able to play baseball professionally! He needs his parents here with him right now, supporting him, not off gallivanting around Europe on a second honeymoon!"

"He has a physical therapist," the business owner ticked off on his fingers, "he has a private nurse who comes in to help him for a few hours everyday, and he has three siblings who would do anything for him. I think he could survive for two weeks while his Mommy went out of town."

"Stop it," his wife threatened him, shoving him away from her. "I don't want to hear another word from your mouth. Just leave me alone."

"Why? Is the truth too hard to accept?"

"No, because I am sick and tired of you putting your own needs before those of our children!"

"That's not what I'm doing, Marissa." Sighing, he shook his head in aggravation. "Don't you get it? I'm trying to put your needs first."

"Well, no one asked you to!"

"No," he agreed with her, "no one did, but I'm your husband, and someone needs to take care of you, because you sure as hell aren't taking care of yourself right now."

"I just want to be left alone," she pleaded with him. "I'd rather you simply ignore me than do things for me because you feel sorry for me."

"How many times do I have to tell you," he exploded, throwing his hand into the air out of exasperation. "I do not pity…"

The phone ringing interrupted them. "This is not over," he warned her while moving towards the cordless on the dresser and picking it up. While he talked on the phone, she turned her back to him and waited silently. The call only took a couple of seconds, and, by the time he hung up, Ryan's irritation had evaporated to be replaced with anxiety. "That was the police," he told her. "Cooper's been arrested."

Without a word, she gathered her things and left the room, never once looking in his direction or asking for his help. Too bad he was going to offer it anyway, and he was damn determined that she'd accept it whether she wanted to or not.

As they walked into the police station together, Ryan found himself shivering, not from a genuine coldness because the chill to the night air but from the hostility and misunderstanding that separated him from his wife. If it wasn't for the wedding bands on their ring fingers, no one would have been able to tell that they were married. It was disconcerting and made him that much more scared that his relationship with the woman he loved was falling apart.

Allowing Marissa to speak with Cooper first, he watched her enter their son's cell, sit down beside him on his cot, and take his hands in hers. Despite himself, the father of five felt an unjustified sense of jealousy towards their child, for, when he touched her, she flinched, and there she was voluntarily touching someone else.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you the hospital? I can't believe they arrested you before making sure you were medically cleared. Irresponsible, arrogant, brainless bast…"

"He's fine, Marissa," the business owner interrupted the tirade his wife was just getting started on towards the local law enforcement officers. "The EMT's checked him out at the scene of the accident, and, though his car was wrapped around a telephone pole, there's not a scratch on him." Letting a disappointed, confrontational note towards his son enter his voice, he continued. "A bottle of tequila tends to have that result."

"Not now, Ryan," she snapped right back at him, leveling him with a glacial stare before turning back to their son. "Cooper, I want you to listen to me," she told the twenty-four year old. Lifting her arms to cradle his face in her hands, she looked into his glazed over eyes before kissing his forehead and pulling him into a hug. "I'm going to take care of this; I'm going to make these charges go away."

"You're not Johnnie Cochran, Marissa, and there's nothing you can do besides stand by him while he goes to court, faces his punishment, and serves it."

She ignored him. "Don't listen to your father, Cooper. We'll find you the best defense attorney we can, and we'll get you out of this. Everything's going to be okay." Smoothing her hands through his hair, she held their son in her arms like a child until he pushed her way.

"God, Mom, just get off of me. It's a DUI not a murder charge. Leave me alone. I don't want your help. Hell," the twenty-four year old added impulsively, standing up from the cot and pacing the length of the eight by eight jail cell, "I don't want you here period. Go home. I want to talk to Dad."

"I'm right here, kid," Ryan spoke up, smiling in an understanding manner towards his son.

"I want to talk to Dad…alone."

"I see," Marissa stated, standing up from her seated position and immediately shutting down emotionally. "I'll just…yeah."

As she passed by him, the father of five reached out to grab his wife's arm, but she brushed him off. "Honey, don't go. You should stay. This is something all three of us need to discuss together."

"No, you heard our son. He doesn't want me here, Ryan; he doesn't need me."

Realizing her deepest fears were coming true except for it was Cooper who was pushing her away instead of him, he tried to stop her again. "Of course he needs you. You're his Mother. He'll always need you."

Her gaze refused to meet his, but he could tell by the husky nature of her voice that she was crying. "No he doesn't," she reiterated. "No one does," and, before he could disagree, she was running out of the precinct and disappearing.

Angered, Ryan rounded on his son. "I get that you're pissed at the world right now, that you're trying to hurt yourself because you figure you have nothing left to lose, but I will not stand by and allow you to hurt your Mom like that again. She did nothing to deserve that, especially not after everything she's done for you over the years. You and your siblings are her entire world, and that stunt you just pulled there made everything she loves come crashing down around her. Grow up, Cooper," he shouted, slamming his fists against he bars of the jail cell. "Yeah, you can't play baseball again, but you're alive, you have a family behind you that will support you through anything and everything, and you have so much to offer. Suck it up, quit feeling sorry for yourself, and figure out your life, because we're not doing it for you. I'll be down in the morning to bail you out. For now, I think you should just stay here while I go and try to comfort your Mom."

Just as he was about to leave the hallway and enter into the main common area of the jail, his second oldest son's voice stopped him. "You're right."

Without turning around, Ryan agreed with him. "I know." Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he instructed, "if you can manage to not pass out for a few hours, think about what you want to do when you get out of here, and then we'll talk tomorrow, you, me, and your Mom, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, you know, for giving it to me straight. Oh and, Dad," the twenty-four year old spoke out one last time, "will you tell Mom I'm sorry and make sure she's okay?"

"I'm going to try, but…" Clearing his throat and trying to hide his insecurity, he changed the topic. "See you in the morning."

And then he left with yet another heavy weight resting on his capable but overburdened shoulders. Nothing was improving; instead, everything in the Atwood family's life just seemed to get worse, and Ryan was unsure about just how much more pressure his back could take before it figuratively snapped in two and just gave up. Life wasn't supposed to be this hard; love wasn't either.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Susan eyed her brother-in-law curiously. Of any of her husband's siblings, she preferred Cooper the most. Compared to the younger Atwoods, he was laid back and nonjudgmental, two traits she needed in a relative to be accepted, but that did not mean she was comfortable spending time with the twenty-four year old, especially since he was injured. As life altering surgery tended to do, Cooper had become somewhat bitter since his career had come to an abrupt stop. Really, what were they supposed to talk about? She hated sports, and, even if she didn't, the subject had suddenly become taboo. The weather was too predictable. How much could one person say about Northern California's weather in July? And he certainly wouldn't want to discuss her Lamaze classes or the advantages of breast feeding vs. using bottles and formula. In fact, the only thing they had in common was their recent frequent use of medical facilities, and the soon-to-be first time mother knew her brother-in-law did not want to discuss hospitals.

So, instead of broaching conversation herself, she waited, watched, and hoped Cooper would speak first. However, when she noticed him pull out a small plastic tarp from his pocket and place it down on the swing beside her, she couldn't bite her tongue any longer. Pregnancy, apparently, made her curious.

"What the hell is that for?"

"In case you leak," the twenty-four year old replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "I don't really like to move around much, because I'm not used to the crutches yet, and," he pointed towards her very swollen abdomen, "you're obviously not going anywhere anytime soon. Since this is the best seat in the house, I figured we'd be sitting together for a while, at least until the fireworks display has ended, and I didn't want a loud noise to startle you, send you into labor, and have your water break and soak my shorts. I like these shorts, and it's really a pain in the ass for me to change my clothes."

With mouth gaping open, she tilted her head to the side, unsure of how to take the younger man's comments. Finally, she asked, "was that a joke?"

"Kind of," Cooper admitted, scratching his jaw. A few days worth of stubble had grown through. "But I really don't want you to leak on me either."

"I see you're feeling better."

"Getting there," he admitted. "Having a plan and some new goals tends to improve one's mood."

"Not that I'm not interested in what you have to say, but are you sure you want to tell it to me?" Slyly nodding her head towards her sister-in-law, Susan pretended to tuck her hair behind her ear in order to disguise the movement. "Loren has been watching you like a woman scorned since the moment you sat down beside me."

"Well, she probably feels as if I'm being unfaithful." Chucking softly, Cooper confessed, "I'm the one she goes to when she wants to complain about you, so me sitting here and actually engaging in conversation with you is like talking to the enemy in my sister's book."

"She really hates me, doesn't she?"

"At first, I think her animosity was a byproduct of Mom's, but, at this point, I think she's rather jealous. For a long time, Loren was the only girl in the family. All of a sudden, her brother's married and she has a brand new baby sister. The spotlight isn't shining as brightly as it once was."

The accountant absorbed what her companion had to say before responding. "So, I guess it's a good thing I've having a boy then, isn't it?"

"What?"

She could tell by her brother-in-law's tone of voice that he had not been expecting her to say that. Smiling softly, Susan found herself tenderly caressing her stomach, the maternal gesture even surprising her. "I haven't told anyone yet, and Garrett doesn't want to know, but I figured you'd be able to keep a secret, and, if nothing else, my son's Uncle Cooper should be good and ready to coach t-ball."

"Of course I will," he accepted eagerly, a wide, goofy grin on his handsome face. "Hell, if you and my brother get ambitious and see a fertility specialist, you could probably have a whole team of Atwoods ready for me to coach in a few years' time."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she laughed good naturedly at his comment. "For now, one's enough." Changing the subject, she queried, "may I ask you though, why aren't you more concerned about Loren's reaction to our talking to each other?"

"I'm golden," Cooper shrugged off her concerns. "Just as soon as my little sister opens her present from Mom and Dad, nothing, not even the two of us smoking a peace pipe together could ruin her mood or my good standing in her favor."

"Oh, I've heard the present is a pretty big deal. Can you tell me what it is?"

"Nope," the twenty-four year old shook his head negatively. "I can't take the risk. My parents already threatened to cut me off for good if I let it slip to anyone, and, with going back to school, I kind of need their financial help right now."

"Garrett told me about that. You're studying sports medicine, right?"

"Yep," he answered. "I want to work as a trainer for a professional sports team eventually. I'm giving up my apartment, moving back home to save money, and I'm going to actually give school a real chance this time."

"You can't beat free rent," Susan pointed out, showing her support for his plan.

"You call being a built in babysitter at your parents' beck and call free?"

"Good point," the soon-to-be mother giggled. "Good luck picking up women now."

Sighing, Cooper complained good-naturedly. "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

"Pretty much."

With that, the two of them settled back into the swing, and, with the use of his good leg, her brother-in-law started to gently rock them back and forth. A silence fell down between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward; instead, it felt as if they had finally reached an understanding between them, and, though she still had a long way to go, Susan realized she was finally, one person at a time, being accepted into the Atwood family. It felt good, but, at the same time, it made her crave acceptance from every one of her husband's relatives. Eventually, she promised herself; eventually she would win them all over.

"Hey Dad," Aristan prefaced his question as he moved to stand beside his father who was slaving away over the grill, making food for their many, many guests that Fourth of July, "why did Mom agree to throw the annual party this year? After everything that's happened, I'm sure people would have understood if we cancelled."

"They would have, but, for the exact reason it makes sense to the rest of us to not have the party, to your Mom, that's reason enough to throw it."

"I don't understand."

Making sure the hotdogs, hamburgers, and bratwurst were all cooking properly, Ryan closed the lid to the grill and turned towards his son. "It's because of everything that has happened since your baby sister was born that your Mom insisted we have our annual party. She feels like she's let me down somehow," he confessed, lowering his voice so that those around them wouldn't accidentally overhear, "and the last thing she wants to do is disappoint your sister on her birthday or the rest of you kids."

Aristan snorted in response. "I hate this freaking party. No one appreciates all the work Mom puts into it. They come, they eat, they destroy our yard, and then we're left to pick up after them, and, worst of all, there's no music."

The father of five chuckled, covering his amusement by taking a drink of water. Satisfied that the food would finish cooking on its own, he turned the grill off and took a seat in one of the lawn chairs close by. His son did the same. Finally, he spoke. "That's not true. Loren appreciates all the time and effort your Mom puts into this party every year, and we do it because we want her to know how special she is to all of us, how loved she is. While you might not like big, loud parties, your sister does, and this is her day after all, not yours." When Aristan continued to glower, the business owner realized there was more to his son's sour mood than hating most of his parents' and his sisters' friends. "What's this really about?"

"I'm worried about Mom."

The frankness of the statement left Ryan speechless for several long, uncomfortable moments. "I am, too, kid," he finally confessed.

"It's just," the thirteen year old started only to pause, rethink his words, and begin again. "It's been almost four months since Tyler was born, and I know that Mom went through some pretty bad stuff, things the two of you won't even talk about with us kids around, but she's not getting any better, Dad. Shouldn't she be getting better by now?"

"There's really no time line for these things."

"Trust me, I realize that," Aristan reassured him. "I've done the research," he stated, surprising his father, once again, with just how mature he was. "I've read everything I can get my hands on for Post Partum Depression, hysterectomies, and Hepatitis, but I'm frustrated, and I don't..."

"Wait a second," he interrupted his son. "What did you just say? How do you know about your Mom having Hepatitis? She didn't want you kids to know about that."

Turning a dark shade of red and averting his gaze away from his Dad's, the musician of the family admitted, "I was going through her stuff and found some pamphlets. I figured she wasn't just browsing through the material out of curiosity, so it wasn't too hard to figure out."

"We'll talk about this snooping nonsense later, but, for now, I need you to tell me if your brothers and sister know anything about this."

"They don't have a clue."

"Good," he commented. "For your Mom's sake, let's keep it like that."

"No problem, Dad," Aristan quickly agreed. "But what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"To help Mom," the thirteen year old prompted. "Do you have a plan?"

"Just to keep doing what I've been doing," Ryan answered. "I'm going to keep telling her how much I love her and trying to show her that nothing has changed between us until it eventually sinks in."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Well," the father of five sighed, exhaling a long, tired breath. "I've been thinking about mentioning therapy to her, see how she reacts to the idea."

"I think Mom's more likely to talk to you than she is a stranger," his son shared, shrugging his shoulders out of helplessness. They were both quiet for several minutes as they thought about the woman they loved in very different ways. "Maybe you need to try a new approach," Aristan suggested. "The ways you used to show Mom you cared won't work now, because she's a different person; she's in a different place after everything that has happened to her. Show her, tell her you love her in a fresh, original way."

"That's actually a really good idea." Pulling the thirteen year old against him in a fatherly hug, Ryan teased, "when did you get so smart where women are concerned?"

"Please, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. Half the time, everything that comes out of Loren's mouth is a mystery to me," his youngest son defended. "I just…I understand Mom. I mean, not the whole I'm no longer a real woman thing she's currently going through," their conversation paused long enough for the business owner to laugh at that comment, "but I understand the way her mind works, and I watch her a lot when she thinks no one is looking. Trust me on this."

The father and son pair shared a smile of understanding and compassion. "I think I just might." And there was no time like the present for Ryan to start.

Marissa Atwood was not enjoying her family's annual Fourth of July party, and, besides the obvious, there were three explanations as to why. One, she was going insane, which, considering everything she had been through during the past few months, she wouldn't rule the idea out. Two, she was paranoid, but, seeing as how the mother of five had never really suffered from an abnormally high level of suspicion before, she doubted it was the cause of her duress. And, finally, the third option was that her guests truly were talking about her behind her back at every chance they got, and, if she were honest with herself, the former nurse would admit that, if she were them, she would be doing the same thing.

Gossiping was one thing, for it was second nature to most women, but it was another story for Marissa to purposely eavesdrop on her friends' and former coworkers' conversations. Perhaps it was her low self-esteem or it might simply have been desperation to know something without doubt, but, whatever the reason, instead of sitting down and eating dinner or spending time with her family, Marissa found herself circulating through the party in the shadows, listening to hushed, judgmental whispers that only seemed to compound the very doubts the wife and mother had about herself.

_It really is quite a shame, what's happening to their family. I'm practically embarrassed for them. _

_Did you hear that their son Cooper was arrested a couple months ago for a DUI? Apparently, he gets his penchant for overreacting from his mother. Do you think she self-medicates with alcohol as well?_

_I heard their marriage was already falling apart, and, to keep him, she purposely got herself pregnant, trapped him into staying. After all, you know he's only still with her for the children, and can you blame him? Could you imagine what would happen to their kids if they divorced and she got custody? _

_Having a baby when your daughter-in-law is pregnant with your first grandchild, I thought that was something that only happened in the movies. Talk about low class. _

_You do know that she quit working, don't you? So, now, her poor husband not only has to take care of the children by himself because she's too incapacitated to be of any help, but now he's supporting them by himself as well. At this point, he should just take the kids and leave her. I'm sure having no mother would be better than having her for a parent. _

_Have you taken a good look at her this evening? Talk about letting yourself go. I heard that she had some health issues after having the baby, but she looks practically emaciated. Do you think she's developed an eating disorder? It wouldn't surprise me. _

_Well, even if she does look terrible, he just gets better looking every time I see him. A man like that, he needs a woman in his life who can meet his needs, and you know she isn't right now. If he's looking for volunteers, I don't care if I am married, I'd sign up for duty. _

_Practically every woman here would sign up for that duty. _

_Calm down ladies. He probably already has a mistress, a much younger, beautiful, plastic mistress, and it's only a matter of time before he leaves her for the new, better version. _

_I've heard she's suicidal. _

_Well, I've heard that she's dying. _

_You guys don't have any idea what you're talking about. At this point, she's not doing anything. In fact, she is a nothing; she's irrelevant. _

With their words taunting her, Marissa ran to seek solace inside of the house. Tyler was sleeping upstairs in the master bedroom, and, if she could just escape with no one seeing her flight, she would be able to disappear, leave the party, and not return. With luck on her side, no one would be any the wiser. But things did not work that way for the former nurse; luck was simply a four letter word.

"There you are," Garrett swooped in beside her, looping his arm through his mother's and pulling her along with him to the center of the party. "We're just about to sing _Happy Birthday_, and Loren wants to open her presents. Where were you going anyway?"

"Inside to check on the baby."

"Oh, she's fine. Susie and I figured you'd want to enjoy yourself tonight, and, since she can't be on her feet anyway, she has the baby monitor sitting beside her on the swing, and she's listening for Tyler. If she wakes up," her oldest son reassured her, "I'm going to go in and take care of her for you."

She watched as the young man beside her, a man she could still remember bringing home from the hospital when he was a newborn as if she had just given birth to him the day before, smiled sweetly down upon her, not realizing his gesture meant to comfort did anything but. She wanted to thank him, to show him the appropriate amount of appreciation his actions required, but she just couldn't pretend anymore. She didn't have the energy. So, instead, she just stared and was thankful when he didn't push for more.

Within seconds, they were standing with the rest of the family, Loren in the middle with both her parents and her siblings surrounding her. On the very outside, the many guests they had invited, their ages ranging from toddlers to great-grandparents, eagerly looked on and joined in with the Atwoods as they sang the customary celebratory song to commemorate her daughter's sixteenth birthday. Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Marissa felt the tears gathering in her eyes and was thankful that the moisture could be excused away as pride or sentimentality.

Once the singing had ceased, they moved on to the gifts, putting off the cutting of the cake. Marissa watched on as her older daughter decided to open the gift from her parents first, the excitement she had felt before the night had begun about seeing the gymnast's reaction dimmed by all she had heard from women she had thought to be her friends.

"Is this a joke?"

The loud, awe struck question brought the mother of five's attention back to the present and away from the near past.

"Because, if it is," Loren pressed, "it should be considered cruel and unusual punishment."

"It's not a joke," Ryan reassured the sixteen year old.

"So I'm seriously going to the Olympics?"

"Think of it as a trial run," the former nurse heard her husband suggest. "This time, when you go, you're going as a spectator, but maybe, in four more years' time, you'll be able to go back as a competitor."

"But don't you dare think that we're going to the men gymnastic events," Cooper warned his sister. "I draw the line at guys wearing tights. We'll hit some other events instead, some track races, a little swimming, perhaps some high board diving, and a lot of baseball games."

"You're all going with me?"

"No, it'll just be you and Cooper," Ryan informed their daughter. "You'll be the chaperone."

"Oh, someone get Dad a mic, because he's on fire tonight," their twenty-four year old son yelled over the buzzing of the crowd, eliciting a playful punch from his father.

"I just…this is amazing," Loren gushed, running forward to envelope both of her parents in a single hug, squeezing them as tightly as she could. "I couldn't have asked for anything better. Thank you so, so, so much."

"You're welcome," Marissa heard her husband return, speaking for the both of them. "You deserve this."

With a squeal of excitement, the sixteen year old ran off to show her friends the tickets she was clutching so securely in her small hands, forgetting about the rest of her presents and giving the mother of five the opportunity she needed to sneak away from the party and disappear into the solace and solitude of the still house. As she slipped inside though, she never noticed the lone pair of eyes watching her, because, if she had, she would have seen her daughter-in-law observing her with a look of resigned compassion dulling the sparkle of her bright eyes and turning the corners of her smiling mouth downward into a frown.

It took Ryan nearly a half an hour after Susan had called him over to the swing to tell him that Marissa had disappeared inside of the house to finally make it upstairs to his wife. He had left to join her immediately, but, on his way, he had been constantly stopped by guests offering him their very insincere condolences. He had wanted to brush their pity aside, to refuse to accept their commiseration, but wanting to protect his family, even if only by reputation, the father of five had endured the delays and the hypocrisy with a fake smile, a few nods of his head, and very little to say. By the time he reached the room he shared with the mother of his children, he hoped neither of them would have to return to the melee outside.

"Remind me again why we do this to ourselves," he joked as he stepped into the room. His first instinct was to cross the space dividing him from Marissa, wrap his arms around her waist, and kiss the side of her neck, but he pushed those urges off and remembered what his son had told him - _Show her, tell her you love her in a fresh, original way. _So, instead, he simply went to stand beside her. When she turned to face him, he offered her a smile before bending down and placing a kiss upon their daughter's sleeping brow, stifling his desire to take Tyler from his wife's arms to give her a break.

"We do it for them," she finally answered, nodding towards their four eldest children who were gathered around the swing together, laughing, talking, and enjoying the fireworks display being put on that they could see from their big back yard.

"Eventually though, when Garrett and Susan have their own house, we're going to have to suggest splitting the hosting duties, making them hold the party every other year."

"That's a good idea."

He smirked, lightheartedly knocking his shoulder against hers in a teasing manner. "I do have those occasionally, you know."

"I know."

With that, they fell into a comfortable silence. Although he knew the moment of peace was an excellent opportunity for the two of them to talk, Ryan did not push her, hoping that maybe she would come to him. If nothing else, he was following Aristan's advice and trying a new tactic.

Finally, his wish was granted, and it was Marissa who started to talk to him. Unfortunately, it was perhaps the very last think he wanted to hear from her. "I want you to know that I love you and that the idea of you with another woman makes me literally sick to my stomach, but I'll understand if you have an affair."

"Excuse me?"

"I just…I haven't been a real wife to you in months, Ryan," she heatedly explained, tears of disappointment and anguish filling her murky, sapphire orbs. "You deserve to have someone in your life whom you want to be with, who can give you the things I can't anymore. Do I want you to sleep with other woman," she asked only to vehemently answer the question herself, "of course not, but I also know that I can't ask you to wait for me to get past…this…this feeling of being lost at sea and drowning in my own fear, because I might never get better."

"Marissa, it wouldn't take you asking me to get me to wait; I'm going to wait for you no matter what you want me to do."

"You don't have to say that," she rushed to assure him. "Ryan, I don't think you're listening to me."

"No, you're the one who's not listening," he contended. Giving in to his instincts, he turned towards her and looked deeply into her watery gaze. "I don't care if we never make love again. Would I miss having sex with you, would I miss holding you in my arms and listening to your heart rate return to normal after I was the one to make it race so quickly in the first place? Hell yes, I would. I'd never be able to look you in the eye and deny that, but there's more to loving you, to being your husband than getting to have you in my bed. I'm in this, for better or for worse, till death do us part, no matter how bad things get, no matter how hard you try to push me away, no matter if you take me down underneath that water with you. Rubber and glue, sweetheart," he joked, astonishing himself when his comment made her laugh softly and smile, "you're stuck with me. So, I don't care if you have to bite your tongue, I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about affairs, alright?"

"Okay," Marissa agreed quickly, nodding her head as she said the lone important word.

With that, he turned back to face the window they were both standing before, and they quietly watched the firework display together. Nothing else was said, and, at that point, he was content with what they had already discussed with each other. Not only had she finally opened up about what she was feeling, but she had accepted his declaration of love and commitment almost without argument. It was a slight improvement.

Further surprising him, the business owner felt the mother of his children reach over and take his hand in hers, holding it tightly as they stood, shoulders brushing, in the room they had so intimately shared for sixteen years. In that moment, Ryan knew they would make it. The road ahead of them might be winding, full of curves, potholes, and obstructions, but it wasn't broken and it never would be, and that was all that truly mattered.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Just to let you all know, there is only one chapter left of this story. Enjoy!_

_Charlynn_

Chapter Twelve

Sitting across from her friend and former colleague, Marissa came face to face with yet another hard cold truth. She was nowhere near back to normal, fixed, or healthy again, and, while she had made some strides forward, it was still going to be a long and winding journey. But that was why she was there in the crowded restaurant during lunch in the first place. Nobody was going to heal her; if she wanted to get better, she was going to have to fight that battle herself. And she wanted to get better, not only for herself but for her children and her husband as well. They deserved to have the wife and mother she used to be in their lives, and she deserved to enjoy every single second she had left to spend with them whether it was only a year or another fifty.

However, her recovery literally consisted of going one step at a time, and those steps were baby steps. The first tentative improvement had come when she had reached out for Ryan, held his hand, and pushed aside her instinctual urges to bolt and run, to hide her feelings and her emotions, and to turn back into herself. Seeing the hurt in his eyes when she had suggested he have an affair had been the wake up call she had needed, and, despite the fact that she still, at times, doubted his love for her due to the simple fact that she sometimes didn't know how to love herself, she knew, no matter what, she loved him with every fiber of her being, and it would be harder to turn him away and not try again than it would to risk getting hurt.

So, here she was, a month later, attempting to cross off another goal from her list. The first had been going out in public again. Sure, her trips into town were inconsequential and rather pointless, but their purpose was not the actual errand itself but the fact that she would endeavor to accomplish it in the first place. Once a day for four weeks, she had forced herself to go out with Tyler and do something. Sometimes it would be a simple adventure to the book store where she would find an innocuous corner to sit and browse through children's books and self-help guides with her daughter. On other afternoons, she would attend PTO meetings, listening to the news but not volunteering ideas or her time to help, or go to the gym to watch Loren practice, or, on days when she was feeling particularly strong, she would surprise her husband and stop by to see him at work, taking both lunch and their infant baby girl to visit him.

And, now, here she was during the lunch rush exactly five months after Tyler was born – sitting across from Pat, fiddling with the folded napkin in her lap, and fighting a wry, self-mocking smile. It had been so much easier to plan her speech in her head when she was laying in bed the night before unable to sleep, Ryan's soft breathing and warm, almost reassuring embrace surrounding her, lulling her into what was perhaps a false sense of hope and courage. But it was too late to back down now. She had called and asked the OB-GYN to lunch, she had insisted that there was something she wanted to talk to her about, to ask her, and she had been the one to come up with the ridiculous plan in the first place.

"Marissa?" Pat's soft hand reaching across the table to clasp hers made the younger woman jump in surprise at the physical contact. However, she was pleased to see that the friendly gesture didn't scare her. It was a good sign. "Whatever it is," the doctor smiled, "you can ask me."

"I know," the mother of five agreed, nodding her head and exhaling a harsh, rapid breath. "It's just…awkward."

"Would you like to order first? We could eat, loosen up a little bit before we discuss whatever it is that's on your mind."

"No," Marissa refused though she was grateful for the offer. "I'm not going to be able to relax until I just say it, so here goes nothing." Frustrated with her own insecurities, she picked her napkin up and tossed it onto the table so she couldn't fidget with it anymore before speaking. Locking gazes with the older woman, she proposed, "I want a job, a part time one, and I know that it's rude of me to ask you this because, not only are you my doctor, but you're also my friend, but I needed someone I could trust, and I trust you."

"You want to start working again?"

"Like I said, only part time," the wife and mother reiterated, "but I think I need this. For a long time, being a nurse was a huge part of my identity, and, without much thought, I rashly threw my career away. Don't get me wrong," she warned her former colleague, "being around other people and being out in public for others to see and judge me is sometimes still scary, but I'm doing better, I'm going out for at least an hour everyday, and I miss it. I miss taking care of expectant mothers, I miss helping them with their newborns, and I miss feeling useful."

"That makes sense," the physician stated with a soft, caring expression on her face, "and I think it's a really good sign. This is a step in the right direction, Marissa."

"I think so, too."

"Now, tell me exactly what you had in mind." Before she could respond, the OB-GYN held up her hand to stop her. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not agreeing to anything yet. I want to hear your ideas first."

"I enjoyed private nursing, but, with a newborn, the hectic schedule just doesn't work for me any longer, and, to be honest, I'm not ready to go back into the OR. For now, what I would like to do is work just a day or two a week, see how that goes, and then, in a few months' time, evaluate how I'm doing professionally, personally, and mentally. Obviously, I would have to start at the bottom of the ladder. Some of the men and women who work in your office have been with you for years, and I would not feel comfortable walking into your practice and jumping ahead of any of them simply because I have more training. At this point, I'd be willing to do just about anything – file records, work as a receptionist, go back to performing basic nursing tasks. Like I said, I trust you, and I would leave it up to you to decide what I'm ready for and what I'm not."

Patricia regarded her closely, and their table fell silent. Finally, she replied, "you've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Insomnia tends to drop a lot of free time into a person's hands," the younger woman joked though there wasn't any real humor in the comment.

"Marissa, that's not healthy."

"I know, and I've been monitoring it, making sure that it doesn't get out of control. I've told Ryan about it, too," she promised, speaking as earnestly as possible. "I'm just… I'm not comfortable with the idea of taking any medication for it, at least not yet. With all my health issues recently, especially with the hepatitis, that last thing I need is to be on another prescription drug."

"Just be careful," the doctor pleaded with her friend. Perking up slightly, she suggested, "have you considered the idea of just getting away, of taking a break? I know that you and your husband have those tickets to England still to use. Maybe a change of scenery and a good old fashioned case of jetlag might help you get some sleep."

"Actually, Ryan and I have talked about going away. At first, when he suggested it, I basically refused to even consider the idea, but we've been talking more lately, and, even though I wouldn't say things are better between us, they're not nearly as bad as they were three months ago. We're getting there," she confided, smiling discreetly to herself, "slowly but surely. As for England though, we can't go anywhere until after Susan gives birth."

"She hasn't yet?"

"I know," Marissa laughed in accordance with the doctor's disbelief. "She's three weeks overdue and miserable. Her OB-GYN says that if she doesn't go into labor by the end of the week, he's inducing her."

"Well, if she wants a second opinion…"

"I already told her that you are the best," the mother of five reassured her friend, "but she's comfortable with her doctor, and, at this point, that's what is important. However," she cleared her throat uncomfortably, "not to be rude, but, about the job offer…"

"I would love to have you as a member of my staff," Patricia graciously accepted, "but there is one condition, and it's an important one."

"What is it?"

"I want you to talk to someone about everything you've been through since Tyler's birth," the physician directed. "And I'm not talking about therapy," the older woman clarified when she went to argue. "I realize you're ill at ease with the idea of a psychiatrist, and I can understand that; many people feel the same way. What I'm talking about though is a support group where you could talk to other women who have gone through similar experiences to what you have. If you would prefer to keep it anonymous, I would be willing to help you locate a group online, but I would recommend not going through that avenue. Sometimes being able to put a face to a name is better, to know that, if you need to, you can pull out your address book, call up one of the other women from your group, and ask them to meet you for coffee somewhere so you can talk." Raising her chin to an almost proud level, the doctor confessed, "some of the women I met in my support group became my good friends, and, eventually, when I was ready to move on again, they stood up with me at my _second _wedding."

"Pat, what are you…"

"What I'm saying is that, although our situations were completely different, I know how lost you feel, because I've been there." When Marissa was ready to press for more information, she went on to explain, "the details aren't important because it was so long ago and I've moved on, but I was married before, in college, and I lost my husband very suddenly. At the time, I wasn't capable of handling the grief on my own. I dropped out of school, refused to go outside, to see other people, I just… withdrew completely from society. Eventually, it was my mother-in-law who forced me to get help, and, when I finally agreed, she took me to a grief support group. It helped, and, now, I'm returning the favor."

Just then, the wife and mother's phone went off. "Can I think about it," she asked as she rummaged through her purse in search of the vibrating mobile. Patricia nodded her head.

The conversation was hurried, an excited rush of exclamations, joyous words, and never finished sentences, and, by the time Marissa finished the call, she had a wide, beaming, real smile illuminating her face. "I'm sorry about this, but I have to go."

"Good news I take it," the older woman asked, indicating the phone the mother of five still clutched in her hands.

"Susan went into labor. That was Garrett. They're on their way to the hospital right now, and he said that they needed me." Emphasizing her words, she repeated, "they _need _me, so I have to go."

"Let me know how everything goes with the baby," her friend asked of her, "and think about my offer and let me know what you decide, okay?"

"I will," Marissa promised. She was about to walk away when she paused, turned back around, and regarded the physician with a thoughtful gaze. "And thanks… for everything, Pat."

The older woman simply nodded her head and smiled in recognition, spurring the former nurse into action. As she left the restaurant, her earlier fears of being in public temporarily forgotten, she called her husband, eager to share with him the good news. In just a few short hours, they were going to be grandparents, the idea no longer frightening or discomforting.

"I can't do this any longer."

It was the first time in over two hours that either of them had said anything, and it brought Ryan crashing back to the present. Just when he had almost been asleep, Aristan decided it was a good time to have a conversation, and, after being awake for more than twenty-four hours, sleep sounded really good to the father of five at that point.

"Can't take what?"

"All this waiting around, doing nothing," his son answered, standing up to pace around the waiting room.

After getting the phone call from Marissa the afternoon before, he had rushed home to pick up his thirteen, soon to be fourteen, year old son and infant daughter and raced to the hospital, expecting to find his grandson or granddaughter already born. The way his wife had sounded over the phone, he had assumed either they had gotten the call late or his daughter-in-law's labor was progressing extremely quickly. He had been wrong, and, nineteen hours later, here they were, the three of them, waiting either for some news or for exhaustion to set in.

With the sound of his own voice thinking inside his head, the business owner was quickly, almost effortlessly lulled back into a relaxed, near unconscious state. As long as Aristan remained quiet for a couple more minutes, he would fall asleep.

"We should play a game."

And then he was up again.

"A game," he parroted, shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs. "Here, in the hospital, you want to play a game?" His son simply nodded yes. "Alright, I guess we can do that, but we're going to have to remain quiet so that we don't wake up Tyler. She misses your Mom, and I really don't want to walk the hall with her again."

"Okay, that's fine. Do you have some cards?"

Ryan cocked his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at the teenager standing across from him. "Why the hell would I have cards on me," he questioned, "and, perhaps more importantly, where the hell would I keep them? In my shoes?"

Aristan rolled his eyes. "I get your point, Dad. Move on."

"Why don't we ask the nurses if we could borrow a trash can for a little while? We'll dump out the papers, roll them into balls, and pretend we're shooting hoops."

"Yes, because Atwoods can always be quiet when they play sports." Evidently, it was his son's turn to use sarcasm. "Let's just play name that tune."

"You only want to play that because you know you'll win." Seeing the musician's smirk, Ryan shrugged his shoulders and gave in. "Name that tune it is then. At this point, I'm too tired to care. You go first. Just, please, go easy on your old man. Stick to songs that actually got some radio play."

"I can do that," Aristan agreed with a dopey grin. "Alright, here are the rules: you can't hum, sing, or even suggest the melody of the songs, and you can only recite four complete lines of the lyrics."

"It's not as if you were going to get me to sing anyway, so that works for me."

"_So long ago, I don't remember when; That's when they say I lost my only friend; Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease; As I listened through the cemetery trees."_

"Well," Ryan quipped, "that certainly is depressing. Don't let the cardio patients listen to that song."

Laughing, his thirteen year old pressed, "Dad, do you have any idea what song that is, or are you simply trying to buy yourself time?"

"The second one."

"That's what I though," Aristan shook his head in amusement. "It's _One Headlight _by The Wallflowers."

"Never heard of them."

"Have you ever heard of Bob Dylan?"

"Kid," the father of five playfully glowered at his youngest son, "I haven't been living in a cave for the past forty-some years. Yes, I've heard of Bob Dylan."

"His son is in the band The Wallflowers. Now, it's your turn," the guitarist directed.

"Okay, how about this: _Highway r…"_

"Dad," Aristan sighed. "_Faithfully _by Journey, seriously? You used to make me listen to them whenever I was in time out as a little kid for punishment. Can you please try something more original next time?"

"We'll see."

The teen simply shuddered in embarrassment for his father's sake. "I'll even give you a clue with this one," he offered. "When I was eight, I loved this band, because I thought their name was awesome. _Mikey had a facial scar; And Bobby was a racist; They were all in love with dyin'; They were doing it in Texas"_

"Do all your songs have to deal with death? I never knew you were so morbid."

Without responding, Aristan simply named the tune for his Dad. "That was _Pepper _by The Butthole Surfers."

"Oh, hey, I do remember that band," Ryan chuckled at recognition. "Cooper told you about them." After a moment, he calmed. "Okay, so it's my turn." He thought for a few seconds. "Alright, I got one. _She says we've got to hold on…"_

"You've got to be kidding me," his son interrupted. "Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi? Dad, Bon Jovi gets so much air play on terrestrial radio, a deaf person would recognize their songs. If you don't come up with something that's not from an 80's hair band for your next song, I'm going to leave this room and go play in the morgue. Corpses would be better at playing this game than you are." The business owner just stared at the teenager, too tired to care. "This time," Aristan began again, "I'll give you an even better clue. The next song actually has two versions, one of which was recorded with Gwen Stefani from No Doubt."

"Never heard of her… or them."

"Never mind. It was _Southside _by Moby. You never would have gotten it. That means I'm up five to nothing. Your turn."

Scrunching up his face, the father of five tried to think of another song, but he really didn't listen to music, and he really didn't care that his son was kicking his ass. So, without thinking, he simply started reciting lyrics from the first song that popped into his head. "_The newt play the flute; The carp play the harp; The plaice play the bass; And they soundin' sharp."_

"_The Little Mermaid,_" the guitarist questioned. "And how did you ever manage to make three children with Mom? Were we artificially inseminated?"

"We – your Mom, Tyler, and I – watched that movie a couple days ago, and, for your information, your sister enjoyed it."

"She's five months old, Dad; if she was in a good mood, she'd enjoy _Cat Woman_, and I think we all know just how horrendous that movie was."

"Okay," he relented, "so you might have a point." Noticing his son's dejected nature, he suggested. "Give me a harder one this time. For some reason, I'm feeling lucky."

"Whatever," the thirteen year old agreed, rolling his eyes. "_Made off; Don't stray; My kind's your kind; I'll stay the same."_

Mouth agape, Ryan stared, completely bewildered at the teen.

"Yeah Yeah Yeahs' _Maps_," Marissa answered, breezing into the waiting room with a wide, content, yet tired smile on her face. "Aristan you should know better than to play name that tune with your Dad. Now, get up lazy bones," she ordered the both of them, "and come with me to meet the youngest Atwood. He doesn't have a name yet, because they're still…"

"He," the husband and father repeated, questioningly. Feeling giddy, he asked, "we have a grandson?"

"We do."

"While you two girls get all misty eyed," Aristan teased his parents, "I'm going to take Tyler and go to the nursery. I'll meet you there."

Before either he or Marissa could argue, their son, hauling their daughter's carrying case, slipped out of the room. Without waiting for permission or to see if his wife would pull away, Ryan wrapped his left arm around her still small waist and slowly propelled them out into the hall. Their walk towards the nursery was leisurely, relaxed, comfortable, and, bolstered by the normalcy of their interaction and suddenly not feeling so very tired, he decided to do something drastic and unexpected.

"Come with me."

"Where are we going," she inquired, watching him with a puzzled expression on her face as he pulled her down the passageway. "To the gift shop, because, if so, I think balloons and flowers can wait fifteen minutes until you see your grandson."

"We're not going to the gift shop."

"Oh." Pausing for a moment, Marissa thought before asking, "do you want to go and call Cooper and Loren?"

"Aristan called them a couple of hours ago to give them an update, but their phones were turned off. They're probably at an event."

"Well, then I don't get it," she admitted. "Where are we going?"

"Here," Ryan answered, and, without giving her a chance to ask anything else, he pulled her into a supply closet, pushed her up against the door once it was closed, and kissed his wife in a way he hadn't kissed her in months.

Immediately, he was addicted. Perhaps it was his desperation to feel close to the woman he loved once again or maybe it was simply the fact that they had gone so long without any intimate contact, but, whatever the reason, he couldn't stop kissing her, couldn't stop touching her, couldn't stop period. When she separated their mouths, he simply moved his lips down her neck, sucking, biting, and tasting the smooth, exposed flesh.

"What," she panted, both from shock and because she was out of breath. "What are you doing?"

As his fingers made quick work of unbuttoning her blouse, he removed his mouth from her throat and locked their gazes together. "What does it look like I'm doing," the business owner asked rhetorically. "I'm going to make love to my wife."

"Ryan, I don't want pity sexy."

He laughed. Knowing it wasn't the right reaction to the situation and knowing it might make her mad, he did it anyway, and he laughed, but, when she narrowed her eyes at him, he pressed his hips against hers and held them there. "Does that feel like pity to you?"

Her pupils flared, dilated, their inky darkness almost eclipsing the sapphire blue of her irises. "No."

"I want you; I've always wanted you. I want you right here, right now."

"But we're in a supply closet," Marissa shrieked, her voice catching. He wasn't sure if it broke from desire or fear or a combination of both. No matter the reason, he found it endearing and cute. "What if we get caught?"

"We'll lock the door. See," he commented, already turning the knob. "No one can get in now unless we let them in."

"But what about the baby?"

"He'll still be there when we're done." As Ryan continued talking, he slowly undressed her, pushing down her shirt, unhooking her bra, and unbuttoning her pants before shoving both them and her underwear to the floor, his actions going unnoticed by his mesmerized and slightly shaking wife. "Trust me, Garrett and Susan will appreciate the time alone without all of us barging in."

"And Tyler?" She was giving in; he could tell.

"Aristan will watch her. She was sleeping just a few minutes ago, and, if she wakes up," he pointed out, "the Atwood with the best voice is there to sing her back to sleep."

"And what about a condom? We don't know if my hepatitis…"

Without waiting for her to finish her sentence, the father of five pushed himself inside her, earning a pleased, erotic sigh of relief from his wife. "We haven't bothered to use them in years, and I'm not about to start now," he finally answered.

"Ryan," Marissa asked, surprising him when she pressed her back into the door and lifted her legs to wrap around him.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

And her mouth moving in to seize his effectively did just that.

Susan Atwood was exhausted. No, she was beyond exhausted; she was weary, and her mind and body both felt numb. She needed to sleep, but, before she would give in and rest, she and her husband wanted to tell his family what they had decided to name their son. For the first time since Garrett had introduced her to his parents and siblings, she felt like a true member of their family. While her parents had gone home the night before when it appeared her labor would last through the night, her husband's parents and his little brother and sister had remained there the entire time, never once complaining… at least not within her range of hearing. When Garrett had gotten nervous and started to panic when she started to push during labor, his mother had been right by her side, holding her hand and talking her through the pain and fear. And, even after the excitement was over and her son had been delivered, they still had refused to leave, and, by staying awake to talk to them, she was trying to show them just how much she appreciated their support. In fact, it was her way of honoring them.

Unfortunately, Ryan and Marissa were no where to be found. The nurses had paged them, Aristan had taken Tyler out with him to look, but they had not been in sight, and Garrett had made sure that their vehicles were both still parked in the hospital parking lot, so the only thing they knew for sure was that neither of his parents had left the premises. However, that still didn't help her get to sleep. Everyone was waiting, gathered in her room, and even her son had been wheeled in so that his parents could officially announce him to the world, but, still, they waited.

They waited, and they waited, and they waited some more.

Just as she was about to rest her eyes, the quiet conversation of her husband's family, the people she loved, surrounding and comforting her into a state of calm and relaxation, the door was pushed open, and Ryan and Marissa finally joined them.

"Oh my god," her mother-in-law gasped, catching sight of Cooper and Loren lounging together on the far side of the room. "What are the two of you doing here?"

She had lost her chance to speak, to hurry up and get their announcement taken care of.

"You didn't think we'd miss this, did you," Cooper asked, standing up to greet his Mom with a hug.

"After Aristan called us yesterday afternoon to let us know that Susan had gone into labor, we exchanged our tickets for the first flight we could get back home," the gymnast explained. "So, here we are. I think the more appropriate question, however, would be: where exactly were the two of you?"

With that, all eyes turned to observe the newly arrived couple, including Susan's. She took in her father-in-law's disheveled hair, his wrinkled clothes, wrinkled beyond the point of sitting in a hospital chair all night long, and his cocky, satisfied smile, and she noticed her mother-in-law's rosy glow, wrongly buttoned shirt, and rather embarrassed aura and knew without a doubt exactly what the older couple had been doing while they had all been waiting for them. In that moment, once and for all, she decided to extend an olive branch to Marissa, and she hoped her former arch rival would accept her gesture of peace.

"You know," the accountant spoke up, bringing the attention of the room back towards her direction. "It's my fault they were late. I asked her during my delivery to call my parents as soon as everything was over, and, at this point, I'm so tired, I simply forgot."

The slight nod from her mother-in-law was all the recognition of her offer that she needed. The olive branch had been accepted.

"On that note, we have something to tell you," Garrett shared with his family, "and then I'm going to kick all you out of here so Susan can get some sleep." Reaching into the incubator, he lifted their son and cradled the seven pound, twenty inch long baby in his arms. "I'd like you all to meet Thompson Ryan Atwood, Tommy for short."

Sighing, her job done, the new mother allowed herself to fall asleep. She was out within a minute.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: With this post, this story is now complete. Just to let you know, the next fic I have planned is very angsty. I mean we're talking graphic, so if this is not your cup of tea, you might not want to read. Because I found another story online that had a similar plot line, the Egypt fic will not be written. To all of you who were looking forward to it, I'm sorry, but I don't want to endeavor to do something that has already basically been done. In my estimation, the new fic should be up within a week's time. As for this story, enjoy the final chapter, and thanks for sticking with me and reading it._

Charlynn

Chapter Thirteen

It was a stalemate. Sitting across the dining room table as they worked together to fold laundry, Loren stared down her sister-in-law, glaring at the older woman. For a week, they had been cohabitating together while her parents went on their much-deserved but postponed trip to England, and, after more than a year, the teenager realized they had come to some form of understanding. While they would never be best friends, they could put aside their differences to work together when necessary – ganging up on the guys, organizing family dinners, and protecting their own. Plus, Loren had to admit that talking to the accountant about certain things had its advantages.

For instance, a discussion about her current boyfriend and their relationship was much more pleasant with Susan than it was with her parents. There were none of the awkward moments or the seemingly unavoidable over shares when you were talking with an Atwood. The accountant was, surprisingly, a constant vein of support when it came to her gymnastics. She would drag Garrett along and they would bring Tommy to watch her competitions, and, no matter what, Loren could always hear her sister-in-law cheering her on from the stands. But, the teenager's favorite thing about the older woman was her capacity to scheme. Granted, when it was directed towards her, it wasn't nearly as fun, but, when they worked together and schemed against someone else, they were a formidable team.

Narrowing her gaze, Loren confided, "I have some ideas, but I want to hear yours first. What have you thought of so far?"

Without answering, Susan stood up from her chair and made her way into the living room to check on the two sleeping babies. Satisfied that they were both out for at least another half hour, she returned to the dining room, reclaimed her seat, and smiled mischievously. "Actually, I don't think we'll have to do too much. You know that Garrett talked to your Dad last night, don't you?"

"I do."

Her parents would be returning back from their trip the next afternoon. Cooper was to pick them up from the airport, and, while her oldest brother was still at work, she and Aristan would go straight home from school in order to help their sister-in-law prepare dinner. It would be the first time since Tommy had been born that every Atwood would be under the same roof. Although it had been strange to go three months without some form of get-together, life had been hectic for everyone. Summer had ended, meaning she and her youngest brother had gone back to school, their Mom had gone back to work part-time, and the two infants in the family required so much attention, it felt as if no one had gotten a decent night's sleep in weeks. However, life was starting to settle back down, they were finding a new routine and working together to make sure the days went by smoothly, and there was a new cause to bring the Atwoods together.

"Well, from what Garrett told me, which, albeit wasn't much, he seems to think that your parents are pretty much back to their old selves."

"Meaning?"

"They're so in love," Susan explained, rolling her eyes in a display of mock frustration, "that I'd be shocked to find out that they even left their hotel room one time this entire week."

Grinning conspiratorially, the gymnast realized, "so they're going to be very affectionate tomorrow night."

"And distracted," her sister-in-law supplied, "so wrapped up in each other, they'll barely manage to notice that anyone else is in the room."

"Including a stranger," Loren suggested rhetorically. "So that means not only will they ignore the tenth person in the room, but they just might embarrass a certain someone as well."

"And their utter lack of interest in what's going on around them will leave us with the perfect opportunity to twist the knife in a little deeper."

"But the question becomes," the teenager continued to speak in code, perhaps just in case someone was lurking around the house and listening to their conversation, "how are we going to get said opportunity?"

"Oh, that's easy," Susan declared, waving off the younger woman's concerns. "We'll pull the classic, timeless excuse; we'll separate the sexes, send the boys to do something outside, claiming we need some peace and quiet and can only achieve that if they're out of our hair. And you know your brothers. If you send them outside…"

"Then they'll inevitably start some kind of sports game and leave us alone," she finished.

"Exactly."

"And once we get the guest alone, we'll be able to work our magic."

"We'll have them attempt to take care of both Tyler and Tommy at the same time," the wife and mother of the two women suggested, "ask them to change their diapers and get them ready for bed while we clean up the kitchen."

"And I've been working with Bagel," Loren admitted, "teaching him to harass strangers."

The accountant nodded her head in approval. "Finally, the finishing touch will be me. I'll talk about how everyone treated me when I first got engaged to Garrett. There's nothing more frightening than a first hand account of mental torture."

"Oh, please, you had it easy," the teenager defended both herself and her family. "Compared to what we have planned for tomorrow night, you were treated with kid gloves."

"But there weren't children in the family then," Susan pointed out. "We have to be extra vigilant now, because those two babies," she gestured towards the sleeping infants in the family room, "cannot grow attached to someone only to have them disappear from their lives a year later."

Clearing his throat, Aristan startled to the two conniving women. "Should I go and then come back in so we can try this again," he questioned them, smirking in amusement, "because this sure as hell feels like I've walked into some kind of alternative reality. You two are getting along… voluntarily." Narrowing his gaze, he leveled his glare on his sister's face. "What exactly are you up to?"

Without hesitation or compunction, Loren admitted, "no good." Adding some levity into her voice and wiggling her finely sculpted brows in a wicked manner, she queried, "want to help?"

"Of course," the musician agreed, immediately reaching for and pulling out a chair to sit down. "What can I do?"

After sharing a scheming look with her sister-in-law, the sixteen year old finally answered her brother's question. "How are your hacking skills?"

"I can finally see the silver lining."

Half asleep, disoriented, and thoroughly exhausted, Ryan wasn't exactly sure what his wife was talking about. All he wanted to do was sit out on their balcony and hold her in his lap during their final night in London, and, apparently, she was in the mood to talk. However, after the months of silence that had existed between them after their daughter's birth, he would never again turn her conversations away.

"Is that an obscure landmark or something," he asked. Although a part of his mind realized he made little to no sense, the clouds had finally lifted that afternoon, and, for the first time since their plane touched down in England, the sky was clear, so it was actually feasible to see across the sprawling city that evening. "Point it out to me," he requested.

"You're cute when you're being ridiculous."

"Hey, I found some grey hair when I showered this morning," the father of five teased. "I'll take what I can get, even cute."

Ignoring him, Marissa explained. "I was talking about my health issues. After all this time, I can finally see the silver lining."

This revelation piqued his interest. Sitting up straighter but keeping his arms wrapped firmly around his wife's hips, he asked, "what do you mean?"

"Well, not everything that came from what happened was bad. Admittedly, I would have preferred to have some warning before getting a hysterectomy so I could have prepared myself, and I definitely could have done without the Post Partum Depression and the Hepatitis, but I lived, right? My depression isn't debilitating anymore, and I'm getting help for it, and, according to Pat, my body seems to be responding well to the medication, so I might test clean for Hepatitis before the end of the year. Plus, and more importantly, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Tyler. She's perfect, and I'd rather suffer through years of physical and emotional illness than have our daughter sick for a single day."

Kissing her brow, Ryan whispered in her ear, "that's because you're a wonderful mother, the best our children could ask for."

"And you're an amazing husband and father," his wife complimented him. "I don't know how I would have gotten through these past six months without you."

"Likewise," he agreed with her. "I guess it's a good thing that you're stuck with me then, isn't it, because I'm never going anywhere."

"Promises, promises," the mother of his children teased, but, despite her doubtful words, he could see the faith and trust she had in him glowing in the depths of her sapphire eyes.

As a form of playful punishment, he took her lips in his, silencing her for several seconds while he tasted her mouth and memorized her essence once again. It didn't matter how old they were or how long they had been married, he would always crave the woman he loved. Finally, after releasing her mouth, he wondered out loud, "now what is all this about the silver lining, and do I benefit from it?"

"Oh, you most certainly do," Marissa shared, giggling as she snuggled even deeper into his embrace. "Just think about it," she insisted. "We never have to worry about me getting pregnant again, so that means no birth control pills, no condoms,…"

"No limitations," he finished for her, grinning widely.

"We can be as carefree and promiscuous as we went."

"And you tell me this now, the night before we leave to go home," Ryan lightheartedly chastised her. "If I would have known you felt like this, I would have tried to seduce you all over this city."

"I think you just answered your own question." Stripping the humor from her voice with a single action, the business owner took his wife for surprise when he slipped his hands underneath her nightgown, only to be pleasantly surprised to find her naked underneath. "What… what are you doing," she asked, breathless.

"I'm going to make love to my very beautiful and aroused wife."

He nearly laughed at how wide her gaze became. "Are you serious? Out here?"

"Well, for now," he admitted, "but, afterwards, we're going back into the room and to bed. However, I don't plan on allowing you to sleep all that much tonight."

"But you're tired," she protested halfheartedly. "You were irrational not even five minutes ago."

"Things change," Ryan shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "I got a second wind."

When she went to object again, he simply cut off what she was going to say by trailing hot, moist kisses down her exposed neck, ending his travels when his lips found the mounds of her still pert breasts. His hips bucked when he felt Marissa's nails spear through his hair and scratch his scalp, her simplest touch driving him to the brink of physical insanity.

"If this is what being a middle aged grandmother means," the mother of his children gasped, "I could get used to this."

He certainly hoped so.

Melanie Ackerman was nervous. For the first time in her life, she was about to meet her boyfriend's parents. While she could never be considered a slut, she was most certainly not a virgin. However, her relationships in the past never seemed to last long enough for the inevitable meet and greet with the people who could potentially be her future in-laws, and here she was about to experience the ageless ritual, and, just her luck, she just had to go and pick a guy whose family was close and, according to her boyfriend, hesitant to welcome in new members. She was going to be tested, he had explained, put through the gauntlet so to speak, and, if she didn't survive the trials his family subjected her to, their relationship would never last, no matter how much he loved her. And he did.

He loved her, and she loved him. Although they had only been dating for two and half months, the graphic design major knew that this was the man for her. She wanted to marry him, grow old with him, and have babies with him… many years down the road, and she had a feeling he wanted the same things with her. All she would have to do to get her happily ever after was find a way to fit into the Atwood family, no easy task according to her boyfriend, but she was up to the challenge and determined, two very important qualities Cooper had told her, especially if she wanted to go up against the women in his family and come out on top… which she most certainly did.

He had agreed with her that the tests of character and personality weren't fair, that she shouldn't have to fit into the mold his mother, sister, and sister-in-law felt she should, but it didn't matter what was right or wrong. He loved his family, they were a part of him, and, if she couldn't find a way to coexist with the Atwoods, then their relationship would never work. It sucked, Cooper had said, and, as she waited for his parents to eventually find their way into the airport's lounge where they were waiting for them, the memory of his oh-so-eloquent choice of words made her smile. After all, if Cooper was so wonderful, if she could love him so much, surely his family would be able to endear themselves in her heart as well. Right?

"Would you relax," she begged of her boyfriend. He was pacing a few steps ahead of where she was sitting patiently, fidgeting the entire time. She knew he was nervous, that he wanted his parents to immediately like her, but his inability to sit still was only going to result in aggravating his still tender knee. "You're parents are probably just getting settled, finding their luggage and going to the bathroom," she suggested.

"There are bathrooms on the plane."

"Yes, there are," Melanie agreed with him, speaking slowly and using what she hoped was a calming and not patronizing tone of voice, "but they're cramped, and they're uncomfortable. Your Mom and Dad know that you're picking them up and then taking them home for a family dinner. If I were them, I'd want to freshen up first, check my appearance, and maybe change clothes. London to San Francisco is quite the long flight, and then there's also the weather difference to consider."

"You're right, I know you're right," Cooper allowed. Despite his words though, he kept pacing. "But their flight landed half an hour ago. Unless the airport allows passengers to use the staff locker rooms so they can shower, I don't see where they could be."

"Maybe they stopped to grab a coffee at Starbucks, or maybe they needed something from one of the stores. They'll be here," she promised, reaching out to grasp his hand and pull him towards her. "Just relax, please."

Grudgingly, he took a seat beside her, but, when he went to pull his hand free, she kept a hold of it, refusing to let go. Soothingly, she caressed the back of his knuckles, weaving a sense of tranquility over the man beside her with the gentle sideways sweep of her thumb. Eventually, she felt Cooper relax beside her, his form become lax and loose as he slumped in his chair and pulled her closer to him. The minutes passed by, stretching until the point where they had been waiting for his parents for three quarters of an hour, but still she kept him composed. Just as she was about to get worried herself, she saw a couple walking towards them that she immediately recognized from the various pictures her boyfriend had showed her of his family.

"See, what did I tell you," she good-naturedly taunted him. "You should listen to me more often."

"Don't get smug too quickly. Look at their clothes."

Doing as he asked, Melanie observed Ryan and Marissa Atwood. The attractive couple was obviously lost in each other, talking softly and holding each other tight as they made their way through the airport terminals, but she had expected that. After all, they had just returned from a week abroad, away from their five children. Of course they had spent the majority of their time intimately alone together; that's what she would have done if she and Cooper had gone to London with only each other for company. But, on closer inspection, she noticed that her boyfriend's parents' clothes were wrinkled and mussed, their hair could most definitely use a good brushing, and they looked guilty and mischievous – just like what she had looked like after her parents caught her going to third base with Adam Rausch during her junior year of high school.

"No," she quickly denied the thought that directly flashed through her mind. "Your parents… they wouldn't do that, right? I mean," she stumbled to find the right thing to say so she could express her discomfort with the situation, "really? In an airport bathroom? That's… that's kind of disgusting."

"No, that's kind of my parents," he corrected her. "They're known for pulling stunts like this. Last year, my sister and older brother walked in on them on the hammock one morning in our backyard, and, just three months ago, they made use of a supply closet at the hospital when my sister-in-law gave birth."

Embarrassed for having caught her boyfriend's parents in such a compromising position and hating that their first conversation would undoubtedly be laced with sexual innuendo, the young college student felt herself blush. "How red is my face right now?"

"You know those little boxer shorts you like to wear to bed at night," he prompted her, referring to the pajamas he had seen her where when he had slept over that past week. "Well, your cheeks currently match them."

She wanted to groan in horror, run away and hide someplace safe where his parents could not see or find her, but it was too late; they were already there standing in front of them.

"Mom, Dad," Cooper greeted the recently returned Atwoods. "I'd like you to meet Melanie Ackerman – my girlfriend."

Standing back in the shadows, Marissa watched as her family interacted, savoring the feeling of being back in her home surrounded by all the people she loved. Yes, she had enjoyed her trip to England with Ryan, and the alone time they had spent together was both needed and cherished, but there was nothing like the few fleeting moments in life when all the pain was washed away and she was left with just simple, unadulterated pleasure, and, watching her children playfully bicker back and forth over the dining room table and sensing the presence of her beloved husband hovering a few steps behind her, she had never felt so at peace.

What she had confessed in London still stood, too. She no longer feared growing old, of watching her children leave home, fall in love, and make families of their own. After all, it was a natural process of life, and she loved being a grandmother. Although she would never regret having Tyler, it was nice to spoil her grandson and then send him home at night with Garrett and Susan. She was looking forward to more and more quiet time with her husband as the years progressed, and, realizing that, she also became aware of the fact that she was only as old as she felt. Sure, her birth certificate said that she was currently forty-six, but, at night, when she lay ensconced in Ryan's strong and supportive arms, his soft breathing mellowing to match her own, she realized she felt as young as she had been the first day she met the love of her life, and, with him at her side, she would never mature beyond the very youthful age of twenty-nine. It was just another reason why her life wouldn't be complete without her husband.

"What are you doing," the father of her children asked as he came up and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to rest against his chest. He had just returned from checking on a slumbering Tyler in the nursery.

"I'm savoring my family." Smiling knowingly, she confessed, "I think the games are about to begin."

"Are they going outside to play football?"

"The boys are," Marissa admitted, "but the games I'm really talking about are the ones Susan and Loren have planned. It appears as if the torture torch has been passed down to the younger generation. However, I think they've been trained well enough to handle it."

Her husband chuckled softly. "I see. So then am I to assume that the real initiation into the Atwood family is about to begin for Melanie?"

"Any second now?"

"Do you know what they have planned?"

Shaking her head no, she answered his question. "Ssh," she asked of him. "Just listen."

As soon as they fell quiet, the sounds of their family's voices floated over them. Aristan was the first to speak.

"I'm really sorry about this, Mel. Who would have known that you were highly allergic to milk? I just feel terrible though," the fourteen year old lamented dryly. Although the guest didn't pick up on his insincerity, his parents did. "You see, I was the one who requested macaroni and cheese for dinner and ice cream for dessert."

"It's okay," Cooper's girlfriend dismissed his apologies. "There was no way you could have known, and I wasn't that hungry anyway." The young woman mistook the bright smile the musician offered her as an acceptance of her reassurance and not for the self-satisfied smirk that it was.

"Well, come on, Melanie," their daughter-in-law requested, standing up from the table. Her movements seemed to trigger Loren's. "While the guys go outside to play football, we're going to clean up the kitchen and get to know one another a little bit better."

"But what about Tommy," their sixteen year old prompted. "I think I just heard him on the monitor, and you know he's going to need changed."

"I'll get him," Garrett offered only to be denied access to his son.

"No, that's okay," his wife reassured him. "Go out and have some fun. You've been working too hard lately. I'm sure Melanie can handle it for me. After all, she's going to have to start practicing with babies sooner or later, right?"

Marissa had to stifle a laugh as she watched the woman in question blanch considerably, but the college student nodded and agreed anyway. Without further argument, Garrett and Aristan practically ran outside, and, just as Cooper was attempting to escape as well, his girlfriend's hand shot out to stop him.

"Don't leave me in here… with them," she pleaded, her eyes wide with fright.

"It'll be okay," Cooper attempted to placate her, kissing her cheek affectionately. "This is your chance to beat them at their own game, and, even if you do put off the tests for now, they'll just keep coming after you until you give in and play."

"But look at them," Melanie insisted. "Your sister is gorgeous, and she's smart and talented, and Susan is practically a Stepford wife. She had that kid three months ago, and she's already in better shape than I am, and I've never even contemplated growing something in my uterus."

"I happen to like your shape just the way it is."

"Oh, he's good," Ryan whispered in her ear, laughing at their son's antics. "I wonder where he gets it."

She ignored him and continued to watch the scene unfold before them. Cooper fled the room, joining his brothers, and Susan and Loren came back into the dining room to pick up more dishes. Surprising them, Melanie stood up and started to talk to them.

"Did Cooper say anything about what happened this afternoon at the airport with his parents?"

"Oh, you mean the whole not-so-quickie in the bathroom," their daughter-in-law prompted. "He told Garrett who told me. Why?"

"Well," the younger woman blushed. "They're not normally like this are they, because it's kind of weird."

"My parents have always been very affectionate," Loren stated unapologetically. If she didn't know better, Marissa would have sworn she heard a note of pride in her daughter's voice. "Just consider yourself lucky that they had all their clothes on when you saw them."

"But I don't get it."

"There's nothing to get," the sixteen year old continued. "They're crazy about each other, fools in love."

"And if your relationship with Cooper lasts," Susan advised Melanie, "then you're going to end up just like them."

Turning around, the mother of five tuned out everything else the three women had to say to each other, took her husband's hand in hers, and led him upstairs to the bedroom they shared. What her daughter-in-law had said was true. When it came to her relationship with Ryan, they really were still love's fools, and, if she had anything to say about it, and she did, that was never going to change.


End file.
